The dessert otherwise known as: Block of Solid Ice That I Was Not Able to Eat Gracefully For Every Time My Spoon Tried To Chip Away at the Ice it Would Hit the Plate With a Resounding Crack. Which is a little too long and Iman-centric to fit onto a menu, so I can understand why the Mandarin Oriental named it what they did.
Usually I inhale desserts like they're pure oxygen and I just ran a 100-metre sprint, but this parfait was just too pretentious and required too much effort to eat. Passionfruit... AND coconuts... AND the self-consciously pompous tiny portion... AND an icepicking adventure upon which one must first embark in order to even ingest it?
Oh, M.O., M.O.... no, no, no. Desserts should be soft, squishy and leisurely. If I wanted a workout and an overload of tropical exoticism I'd go jogging in the jungle.
