My first apartment was located in an appropriately bohemian quarter of Winnipeg (Osborne Village, circa 1987). My weekends were spent typically enough for a guy my age in that part of town, and it wasn't uncommon for me to conclude a late night with a short pit-stop at Baked Expectations for a slice of Tia Maria Torte to go. At the time, it was made with enormous chocolate chip cookies soaked in a Tia Maria solution, and held together with sweetened whipping cream. I may have eaten a portion of the enormous slice before cashing in for the night but most of it was reserved for breakfast, washed down with a pot of strong black coffee.
For my fortieth birthday, my friend hosted a breakfast and served ... Tia Maria Torte, and strong black coffee. To have been observed with such care and affection was incredible. I was, and remain, grateful.
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