When I went to Vienna last July, I wanted to eat three things: tafelspitz, wiener schnitzel, and sachertorte. In a previous visit to Vienna three years ago, I didn’t get to try tafelspitz (a traditional boiled beef dish served with roast potatoes and bone marrow spread on bread, but more on that in a future entry).

The wiener schnitzel (breaded veal) tasted just the same as the one I had in 2007; after all, how different could deep-fried meat taste? I fared better with an excellent deep-fried Camembert served with cranberry jelly. But the sachertorte was a revelation, and not a good one at that: it was no longer as good as I remembered it to be.

Taken aback, I revisited an entry from an old blog about the Viennese sachertorte. I wrote:

“An entire afternoon was spent lingering at the Hotel Sacher for a slice of sacher-torte and a mysterious chocolate drink that contained liqueur, cold chocolate, a mound of whipped cream and two wafer sticks. The sacher-torte is a legend on its own; a chocolate sponge cake filled with apricot jam, coated with thick chocolate icing and served with unsweetened whipped cream, the one made by the Hotel Sacher is said to be the most famous cake in the world. Each slice of sacher-torte is adorned with a dark chocolate medallion, engraved with the official seal of the hotel.

The original sachertorte from Hotel Sacher

That night, spurred by the decadent combination of chocolate and alcohol, I stood in line to get last-minute tickets for a performance of “The Nutcracker” at the Vienna State Opera. Prime tickets had been sold months before then (and at exorbitant prices), so I watched from the highest balcony and sighed as ladies in full gowns took their place in the orchestra area, heartily wishing that I wasn’t just a tourist who was in town for a few days.”

A few observations:

1. It’s actually written as “sachertorte,” not “sacher-torte.” It’s also pronounced “sack-erh-tor-teh,” not “sach-er-tort.”
2. I was a much better writer back then, which is something that I’m trying to fix by getting back into blogging.
3. I really saw life through rose-colored glasses during my first trip to Europe; everything was beautiful, and nothing could faze me.

I ordered the same things when I went back to the Cafe Sacher, if only to recreate the magical first experience I had in Vienna: a slice of sachertorte, the same iced chocolate served with whipped cream and wafer sticks.

Sachertorte aside, this is still the best iced chocolate I've ever tried

This time, I was with two other friends instead of being on my own. It was nice, for a change. I snapped a couple of quick shots first and dug an excitable fork into the pastry. I took a bite, and my face fell. It was dry and slightly bitter, except for the parts nestled next to the apricot jam and chocolate icing.

Initially, I dismissed it as a slice from an inferior batch, and looked around for other sachertortes from reputable konditorei. But they all proved to be the same, whether they were from Hotel Sacher or Demel (formerly an imperial bakery), or cozy bakeshops in the corner. Eventually, I discovered that authentic sachertortes are traditionally dry, which is why the mound of cream served with it is more of a necessity than mere decor.

Mini sachertortes in a row

I questioned my judgment—why had I liked my first slice of sachertorte so much? Did seeing life through rose-colored glasses cloud my perspective? If they did, did it mean that I no longer saw la vie en rose, or did it simply mean I had seen and tasted better desserts? Was I never going to enjoy life as much as I did on that first delicious trip?

There were a lot of questions raised over a silly slice of cake, but the answers meant much more than a pastry. I needed to know that I wasn’t jaded about life, especially since I had left Manila in the middle of a personal crisis.

On that same trip, while taking a short stroll after lunch, a friend and I passed by a konditorei in the back streets St. Stephansdom. One thing about Viennese coffee shops is that their windows are always full of gorgeous pastries, so they can be hard to resist. Lured by the brightly colored fruit-shaped marzipans in the window, we walked in. Inside, a woman in her 70s was slowly spooning an ice cream sundae into her mouth, while other patrons quietly sipped their coffee and made small talk.

L. Heiner's chocolate rum cake

Beside St. Stephansdom with my prized dessert find

For some reason, we waved aside the tray of sachertorte she offered us, and pointed at another cluster of chocolate cakes instead. “They contain alcohol,” she said, raising an eyebrow. We nodded our assent, and she wrapped up our selection along with a marzipan apple.

The day was chilly, but the gothic towers of St. Stephansdom stood out clearly against the bright blue sky. We worked our way through the marzipan (which I liked) and eventually unwrapped the cake. “Here we go,” I said, and took a tentative bite into the cake.

A smile slowly crept up on the corners of my mouth. It was one of the best chocolate cakes I had ever eaten.

(Day 4, 30-Day Blogging Challenge)