I've been feeling a little melancholy these past few days. Nothing serious, just a sort of pervasive vague listlessness. The sort of feeling you get when you finish something wonderful - a book, a game, an anime, whatever it may be - and the joy it brought you slowly evaporates to leave only an awareness that it's over and it isn't coming back.

But what happened today changes everything.

A mere two or three hours ago, I went to a Chinese restaurant with a friend. My gaze trickled down the Engrish-laden menu until it reached the very last item of the Starters section. There, unassumingly, was printed: "Bread of happiness". Well, what the hell, I thought. May as well try something silly sounding. So I ordered it along with a noodle dish and some jasmine tea.

A few minutes later it came, sailing gracefully through the restaurant on the arms of a young waitress. A round plate upon which sat two steaming pastry bundles separated by a solitary sprig of parsley. The pastries themselves were decorated to resemble plump rabbits with their ears flat against their backs and small beady eyes staring straight forward. Intrigued, I cut the end off one of them and ate it.

It was incredible. Warmth spread through my mouth like a late spring breeze. The pastry cradled my tongue like a lover's caress. The sweet filling blossomed out like a lotus flower. The flavour was subtle, gentle, yet powerful. I have never tasted anything like it and likely never will again. This was truly the bread of happiness.

I insisted that my friend try a piece. He commented that it tasted quite nice.