12 years ago, I went to Japan for the first time with a friend. I loved everything about the trip and wanted to come back ever since.

My favorite memory among many great ones is how, on our last night, we ran through Tokyo’s massive subway network with a paper map, trying to find the spot where we had bought korot, heavenly wrapped crêpes filled with cream, banana, and chocolate sauce, a few days earlier. It was an amazing dessert, and we just had to get some more before we left.

I’ll never forget that day. It was one heck of an adventure. It also taught me about “omotenashi,” the Japanese art of “wholehearted hospitality,” when the two ladies manning the shop gave us a whole bunch of korots for free becausze they were closing and we only had euros, no yen.

That day also started a clock: When would I get to eat korot again? The delicacy was not only not available in Europe, let alone Germany—it wasn’t even a thing outside of Tokyo. And I didn’t know where to begin in making it myself. But for the next few years, I kept the memory of them close to my chest.

It’s funny how, sometimes, you know what you want, but you don’t go after it. I knew I wanted to go back to Japan as soon as I left. I don’t know why it took me 12 years to do so. There wasn’t a particular reason I had to wait that long. But there was also no particular reason to return, so maybe I felt I lacked the excuse—nor did I realize I didn’t need one. Alas, life had other plans for me. Still, korots popped into my head every now and then. I only wrote about the experience and omotenashi two years ago.

Naturally, the dessert was high on my list when I finally returned. In a wonderful twist of fate, I found some right in the first subway station I walked into once I got to Tokyo. I was excited but also worried: What if they didn’t taste the same? What if I had overblown their taste in my memory? I bought some, shared them with my fiancée, and we took a bite. Heaven. It still tasted the same. Just as fluffy, just as wonderful—and entirely worth the wait.

I’m happy that my korot repeat turned out well. Sometimes, you form expectations so high, the future that meets them feels like it’s already surpassing what you hoped for. More importantly, however, my 12-year-wait taught me that the best part of eating it again is not whether a meal tastes as well as you remember it. It’s the looking forward to the experience, regardless of how it turns out. In my case, I got 12 years of joyful anticipation. In the end, those were worth more than either crêpe.

Collect memories. Revisit them. But most of all, look forward to looking forward to things. Hope is the best prize of all.