Elegy for an unburnt mouth

I waited all day for that heavenly plate, then traffic and roadblocks conspired with fate. At last I sat starving, took one perfect bite, and instantly knew something wasn’t quite right. Too classy to spit, too committed to swallow, I prayed that cool air might somehow soon follow Tongue getting seared, but I played it off proper, one breath through my teeth: Hasafasha!