A Fog with a Little Something Else

The ingredients for a good London Fog are dynamic. The process is not a perfect science, nor is it a simple one. There is no such thing as a 'perfect fog', even though legend may speak otherwise. Great Fogs are made with a stable foundation combined with an element of the sweet, however material its source may be. 

I sipped this Fog slowly on a late weekend morning. I had slept little the night before, and my mind was moving as sluggishly as the full grey clouds outside. I wasn't particularly warm, nor was I cold - I was extremely present. This isn't a new feeling for me; usually, it's the direct result of living squarely in my head for an extended period of time. 

The fog itself was deeply filling. Though not rejuvenated, I was more grounded than I was before. The world had slowed. The clouds lugged across the sky.

Today, the secret ingredient of this fog was a new type of sweetener - like honey - but from a different organism entirely. The name escapes me, though I vaguely remember it being a long and lengthy tropical plant. It likely wasn't and was probably produced in Chilliwack, but I always air on the colourful side. Either way, my hesitancy to new things once again proved irrational, as the fog met all expectations. Warm, creamy, familiar. 

The ingredients of this fog were not limited to those swirling around in my mug, or those so expertly frothed by a gentle hand, but it also included certain unmeasurables (A little 'Je ne sais pas', perhaps). My heart was heavy and my head was full that morning. I held myself close while sipping my fog, with a certain care and compassion for myself (an ingredient I've only recently begun experimenting with), which gave me enough warmth to smile while watching the thick sullen clouds make their way across the sky. 

7/10 Fog. 

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