We had just finished a lovely dinner of delicious Meatloaf Gone Wild and salad. Conversation began to die down, and it occurred to me as I was swirling the end of my glass of wine that a slice of chocolate cake would really top off the meal.
So, I mentioned the desire for chocolate cake and was soon launched on an adventure in search of chocolate cake – just me and my dear sister.
It’s the off-season in South Lake Tahoe, and it was after 9:00 p.m. This means that Fire and Ice, the restaurant/bar downstairs, was closed, much to our dismay. We were not to be deterred. We left the Marriott Timber Lodge and went across the way to the Stateline Brewery/Restaurant . Also closed. The liquor store was closed as well, so even a package of Ho Hos was out of the question.
We were considering crossing the street for grocery store cake as a last resort when we noticed neon signs just a bit further down from the Stateline. A step or two closer and I could see the dim light that assured me a television was on. Yes! The Echo Restaurant/Lounge at the Embassy Suites was open! Quickly, we skipped toward the lights and as we approached, slowed to a walk to at least appear somewhat dignified as we walked into the fine establishment.
The room was dimly lit, and a small bar was situated on the right. A young bartender was serving three men, and we could see they were drinking shots as we approached. As the only other people in the restaurant, two women walking in quickly captured their attention.
“We are on a quest for chocolate cake!” I stated.
The bartender leaned onto the bar and replied, “We have … chocolate cake.”
I raised my arms in the air to signify “SCORE!” My sister did a happy dance.
“We were finishing our dinner, and I was sitting there drinking my glass of wine and I thought, ‘I need chocolate cake!’” I explained to our now captive audience.
“Of course, you needed the finishing touch.” One of the three patrons agreed.
The bartender spoke again, “Would you like a White Russian with that?”
“Ooooh! That sounds wonderful!” gushed my sister. “But, what kind of shots were you doing?”
“MADONNAS!” came the chorus.
The bartender poured a small shot. “It tastes like fruit juice,” he said, “although it has about 10 different types of alcohol in it.”
We both tried it. YUM! “Never mind the White Russian,” Roylin called, “I think this will be just fine.”
The cake arrived in a recyclable to-go container. I opened the container and peeked, then let out a happy sigh and a smile. Curious looks from the other end of the bar prompted me to open it all the way, smiling. One perfect slice of chocolate fudge cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, a strawberry, and a drizzle of raspberry sauce.
“Thank you!” I gushed to the bartender, “especially for the raspberry drizzle!”
“Don’t thank me,” he replied, “Thank her.” He pointed behind him to the chef who had followed him out of the kitchen. I thanked her.
“I’ve never seen people asking for chocolate cake at a bar before,” said one of the fine young gentlemen.
“Really?” I said. “Two women walk into a bar and ask for chocolate cake. Not a common occurrence?” I directed my question to the chef. She smiled and indicated that it wasn’t that unusual.
“The next time a young lady captures your attention at a bar,” I began…
“Hello there… can I buy you some chocolate cake?” finished my sister, in a deep, sexy voice. “You’ll be golden!”
The young man next to me turned and called over his shoulder to the imaginary waiter, “Oh, and can you be sure to drizzle some raspberry sauce on that?”
We smiled. “They’re invincible now. Our work here is done.” I stated.
The room was silent as we departed the bar.