The ad says a lot of pretty things involving fancy car interiors and the Roman countryside, but I get old diner next to a truck stop–chocolate ice cream sundaes, chrome and red leather bar stools, cigarette smoke and Trident gum–in the best way.
Brash and loud at the start, then melting into sweetness, the leather is almost edible, but for the marvelous hit of
I can find the tomato leaf after I know to look for it, a twang of green with a metallic discord, but it fades after the first hour, drowning in the syrupy resins at the bottom of the dish. I wish it lasted longer–the sharpness is interesting, and cuts through the vanilla.
The benzoin and myrrh stay half the day on skin, and whisper the next morning on cotton.
Lots of fun.
Chuck Berry’s “You Can Never Tell” is a diner jukebox staple–