A Visit To The Chicago Botanic Garden, A Cheesy Dessert, Then Back Home For A Surprise

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​A Visit To The Chicago Botanic Garden, A Cheesy Dessert, Then Back Home For A Surprise

      Thursday night, our last night in Chicago, Miguel and Claire brought us to the Chicago Botanic Garden to see Lightscape, a beautiful holiday exhibit set up on a 1.3-mile loop and offering visitors an ethereal fusion of lights and music amidst the flora and fauna.      

       On our way home from Lightscape we stopped for dinner at a Lebanese restaurant called Libanais that Miguel and Claire had recently discovered and liked.

      As soon as we entered the restaurant we were greeted by the gorgeous display of pastries,

...which we, of course, had to stop and ogle before the server led us to our table.

       Tom and Miguel ordered a bottle a red wine while Claire and I ordered tea and a bottle of sparkling water, elegantly served up on a silver tray.

       The food (with, for me, one exception) was an out-of-this-world rendition of Lebanese fare, and all beautifully presented, starting with the hors d'oeuvres:
          M'hamara, a tasty roasted red pepper and garlic dish served with pita;

...delicious grape leaves filled with rice, tomatoes, onions and spices;

...and the best hummus I've ever had.

      For our entrees, Claire had a veggie wrap,

...Miguel had a chicken wrap, and I had a shawarma wrap made with beef and lamb,

...with a side of the hot, crispy, seasoned French fries.

      Tom had a tasty shish kabob over basmati rice made with the tenderest lamb.

          The meal was great. But then came the desserts. 
       We went up to the dessert counter to make our choices, which was not easy, given all the alluring options.

       Claire ordered the white chocolate blueberry cheesecake,

...while Miguel had baclava topped with vanilla ice cream.

      Both declared their desserts yummy.
       Alas, I had no such luck with my choice. Of course, I brought it on myself - or, as the knight in the Indiana Jones movie would say:

      Here's what happened:
      There being so many yummy-looking options, I simply couldn't decide, so I asked the waitperson behind the dessert counter what they would recommend. They pointed to a photo on the wall behind the counter of what looked like a little round cake topped with ice cream.
       "Try our traditional cheese kanafa. It's made up fresh and hot and it's so good."
        "Oh, yes," agreed my daughter, "I tried that last time. It was delicious."
        So I ordered the cheese kanafa topped with ice cream. 
         What the server set before me looked beautiful. 

      But as I was about to dig into it I was suddenly aware of a strong odor of cheese. I wondered if somebody at a nearby table ordered a pizza, or something.  I asked the others at my table if they smelled cheese.
          "That's your dessert," said my daughter. "It's made with cheese."
       Now, when I think of a dessert made with cheese, I think along the lines of cheesecake or cheese danish. Not actual cheese. But this dessert, as my daughter explained, was made with cheese soaked in a sweet syrup. Which I couldn't wrap my gustatory imagination around.
            "Just try it," said my daughter. "You'll like it."
             I took a small exploratory bite. I did not like it.
​           But apparently it wasn't the cake, it was me. I ate the ice cream  and offered my syrup-soaked cheese dessert to the others, who split it and found it delightful. Apparently I lack the sweet cheese gene.
             I'm thinking next time I go there I'll order the Napoleon. 

      I do love me a Napoleon.
       The next morning in the wee hours we were on the bus,

...then the subway,

...on our way back to O'Hare.

       We arrived home in the middle of the afternoon, and I found myself suddenly tired. I settled into my favorite chair for a little nap, from which I woke up coughing and feeling not great. 
          Surprise.