Abate – (v.) To lesson in intensity or degree
A pale green plastic tray of lack-luster replicated plomeek sat cooling in front of the Commander. He knew, of course, it was illogical to find Enterprise's version of the traditional Vulcan dish so…unappetizing.
In every way that mattered, it was exactly like his mother's, each cytoplast and polymer chain in exactly the right space for optimum nutrition and flavor. He'd programmed the dish himself, down to the teaspoon of terran nutmeg and the cellulose concentration of an in-season plomeek shoot.
But it was never quite right. He'd spent hours finessing the recipe and he still couldn't get palatable cup of soup. Perhaps if he increased the thickness of the cell wall or added more cream? He woke up each morning looking forward to the results of his latest revisions, only to be disappointed each time.
One good cup of plomeek soup, it seemed like a simple enough desire. He kept waiting for the craving to abate, when suddenly he realized it never would