A la recherche du madeleine perdu

Timorous Beast took me for Sunday lunch at our local Frenchie. It's a tiny place, where they charge an unbelievable 1,200 yen for a two-course lunch. Of course, Beast and I, being fat, greedy gaijin, always have a pichet of wine and dessert and coffee too. It's our contribution to the economy. 

So there we were, chatting away between spoonfuls of lime sorbet and cheese mousse. I was just reaching the denouement of my theory about communism, having timed it perfectly to coincide with the end of my sorbet, which I planned to combine with a sublime mouthful of moist, spongy madeleine, when I look down at my dish to see that my madeleine had disappeared. I looked at Beast. He looked at me, cheeks bulging. "You didn't want that, did you?"