Dessert Menu

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Dessert Menu

Creme Brulee
Sorbet Medley (persimmon, asparagus, saffron)
Triple Chocolate Decadence Cake*


* As part of our farm-to-table organic ethos, we would like to share with you how this chocolate cake was made. It was baked by the last degraded scion of Alsatian aristocrats. Hidden in the bowels of his solitude, away from the happy idiocies of his fellow philistines, he sacrificed his youth in hopes of conjuring a cake that would restore his faith in God and resurrect his moribund virility. In the kitchen of his sound proof velvet boudoir bedecked in byzantine splendor, his nerves splintered and his brain feverish from weeks of endless confectionery tribulation, he finally descended into a demonic madness from whence only the recipe, written in a delicate hand on fine shark vellum, returned to see the light of day. We faithfully follow his recipe for every cake to give you the most ultimately decadent chocolate experience that you deserve.

Our flour is finely milled in the gyrating loins of a beautiful gypsy woman with vagina dentata, who is promised a pair of silk slippers for her labors, but given a sound thrashing instead. The eggs are stolen from the Paris Zoo, plucked from the nest of the last living Phillipine Monkey-eating Eagle, whereafter they are lightly beaten by the nimble feet of Chinese orphans. We then add fresh butter that has been churned in a brass vat continually filled by the pert lactating breasts of freshly maternal adolescents who hang from on high in gilded leather harnesses.

To the flour, eggs, and butter, we add a meticulously granulated sugar from a remote plantation in Cuba, where child slaves wield white diamond machetes and wade through miles of green malarial swamp, hacking each other to bits in contest for the precious cane that will save them from their daily lashings. The dough is then kneaded by the gnarled gout-ridden hands of a tubercular nobleman in a nearby sanitorium, his signet ring repeatedly impressing into it the family seal of a shrivel-teated she-wolf nursing a six-headed python.

Then comes the chocolate. Our cocoa beans are collected from only a dozen plants that grow through the cracks in the stone ruins of the ancient pre-Inca temple at Sacsayhuaman—the only physical remains of a highly learned civilization that masturbated itself into extinction. The indigenous people consider the temple site taboo, as they believe touching the cursed ground of an extinct race will lead to immediate paralysis of the will and ossification of the sexual organs. Nor do they brook foreign trespassers, under penalty of death by bludgeoning. However, they do allow their llamas, which are worshipped as deities and costumed in tunics of glinting emerald and sapphire, to graze among the ruins, where they ingest the precious cocoa beans and pass them in perfect form through their silver-lined anuses.

Those beans that fall on common ground are collected in velvet sacks by the enterprising natives and sold on the black market in Cuzco for payment in gin. The natives, who by evolutionary shortcomings lack an enzyme for metabolizing alcohol, get frightfully drunk and, more often than not, bludgeon their clients, steal back their cocoa beans, and eat them themselves, velvet sack and all. It is only these beans, naturally wrapped in gin-soaked shreds of velvet and harvested the next morning by the bathroom attendant in the most notorious brothel in Cuzco, that we use for our chocolate.

The mixture is then poured into the occipital plate of the Roman Emperor Caligula’s skull and slowly baked over a flaming ball of opium.

Finally, a hysterical Jewess recovers from her swoon in a porcelain tub of warm chocolate ganache. When the cake is finished, she arises from her bath and erotically embraces the dark handsome pastry as a substitute love object for the repressed incestuous desire she has for her father.

We top it off with a dollop of chocolate frosting, scraped from the soiled robes of a defiled choir boy after his birthday party, rushed straight to your table, and voila! The nadir of western civilization right on your plate.