Recently I spent an evening in a Japanese Teppenyaki restaurant here in Beijing. We were greeted to scenes such as this,
as we watched our food being seared to perfection in front of us. At the end of the meal we ordered some ice-cream. I was under the impression that it would just be served to us straight from the kitchen, but then this happened:
She poured alcohol on the ice-cream and set fire to it; it was impressive. However, due to my weird fondness for projecting human emotion onto inanimate objects, I felt like the ice-creams were screaming at me.
The ordeal was quite brief, but they were left looking a little worse for wear.
I’ve never thought about ice-cream in this way before.