Taipei Cinnamon Love Letter: Mikkeller
Dear Mikkeller Cinnamon Roll,
I have to admit, when I entered Mikkeller, I wasn’t looking for you. I was just hoping to try the beer. But then love has a mysterious way of sneaking up on us, doesn’t it? It hits us like a beaver tail in the face as we swim in the pond of life. I remember our first meeting. I can still taste you on my lips now.
I was first attracted to the exterior of the building where we met, as the architecture of Mikkeller, Taipei dates back to the days when the Dadaocheng 大稻埕 area was an important trading port in the 19th century.
As I opened the sliding door downstairs, my eyes boggled at the site of so many beers on tap. These were beers from all over the world — Vietnam, Taiwan, USA, Belgium, France, Germany, etc. The lovely girl behind the counter happily obliged in letting me have a taste of the ones I fancied. I could do this all day. I looked over at the black board where there were other food and drink choices, even mead at 9% or over.
And that’s when you caught my eye. There was a small image of you that someone had scrawled on the blackboard, trying to capture your essence in chalk.
“Cinnamon Roll, hmmmmm??? Don’t mind if I do.”
I blushed, I felt a warmth rush to my face. Well, why not? The afternoon was young. Sure, I’d be happy to give you a whirl.
After ordering, I decided to go to a more intimate spot on the second floor where I could overlook the tourists and passersby walking to and fro on Dihua Street. I took our two beers upstairs and waited for you, my heart palpitating in my chest. I sat in the corner, nearby the window, lights dangling from the ceiling.
What would you look like? Would you be covered in white cream? Would you smile at me as I looked down at you, or would you be one of those cinnamon rolls that just deflates on the plate like a farting sea slug, making me gain weight just by looking at you?
I tried to calm myself as I fingered my beer glass, swirling the drink around over the Mikkeller logo of two cartoon characters facing one another. I noted the way beads of condensation gathered on the outside of the glass as the beer played with light and shadow over the Mikkeller characters. It made this soiree feel all the more steamy and mysterious.
The waitress walked up the stairs. I knew that she was bringing you up…it was early afternoon and I had the floor to myself at this point. I tried to play it cool and looked out the window, pretending that I wasn’t interested in your approach. I planned to play hard to get. But when she set you down on the table, my heart melted, just as the glaze was melting over your voluptuous square shape and swirly top.
You had a little flag sticking out of your top, so cute and dainty. But we both knew what we wanted, didn’t we? Sometimes temptation is too much to withstand, too much to disguise with dainty toothpick flags. I stared into your eyes, and you stared back at me, lighting the fire. We both clinked our glasses and took a sip of our drinks as we tried our best to hide our naughty desires.
You were covered in a light brown glaze that shined so much I felt like I could see how nervous I was in the reflection. You mentioned that the beer was lighter than you normally drank. I think I made some silly comment about a bald man who was passing by underneath the window — something to pass the time or break the awkwardness. I can’t remember, exactly, I was so entranced by you, waiting for my moment.
You laughed.
It was the perfect opportunity for me. When you weren’t looking I grabbed my fork and eased it over your swirly top, hovering it next to the toothpick flag. We locked eyes, you silently giving consent. The fork descended, controlled by something outside of us both. I cut all the way through, and we kept our gaze on one another as I went through the layers all the way to the plate. I made sure to get a bit of extra glaze on the fork.
My first bite. Our first kiss.
It’s difficult for me to remember what happened after that. I must have zoned out, intoxicated by the combination of your grainy glaze balanced with the stiffness of your crust. The next thing I knew you were gone. All that remained on the plate was the toothpick flag and a bit of glaze. I swiped my finger on the plate and licked the glaze off.
This was our first meeting, our first bite, our first kiss…it would not be our last. Until we meet again.
