Neither Quickly Nor Easily, But They Didn't SAY You Had To Kill That Sucker In A Single Sitting...

You have a bit of luck right as you are about to order this abomination against sanity and gastronomy. An old acquaintance from high school, Brenda McAlister, a local reporter for the associated press, comes in and you wave her over to your table.

"Hey, Brenda, haven't seen you in what, a year and a half? How have you been?" You ask as she sits down.

"Oh, you know keeping busy with the reporting and writing my novels," she says and you smile.

"Anything gotten published yet?" You inquire and she grimaces.

"No, all people want from female authors right now are romance novels and fantasy stories, no ones interested in Hard SF," she complains.

"Bummer. Ok, listen, I had an ulterior motive for calling you over, I'm going to enter a special contest the restaurant is running today, if I can eat a special dessert with a seven-pint ice cream like concoction they make I'll win a date with one of the chefs, but they don't say how long I have to do it or that it has to be in one sitting, if you can sit here and keep them from bussing the plate I'll buy you lunch, deal?" You ask, and Brenda smiles like a shark.

"I smell a story, you're on!" she says, and soon enough the two orders are in, a big bowl of Dal Makhani for her and the Chef's Lonely Heart Special for you...

Three hours, two trips to the restroom, ordering a mini-bowl of the concoction for Brenda to try, and twenty-nine digressions with your old friend from high school about various sorts of books, music, and films later, you glare victoriously at the empty steep sided platter where once lay the artfully decorated fruit and nut 'Kulfi' that was your obstacle for winning a date with one of the chefs of the restaurant.

"Congratulations Sir!" The waitress that brought out the dish and has waited patiently (sitting on a cushioned barstool) to mark your progress and ensure you and only you ate the seven-pint monstrosity while you slowly demolished the slowly melting fish shaped pseudo-ice-creme. "What is your gender preference for your date?" the waitress asks, and you reply...