It’s funny how people change! You brace yourself for your daily panic attack in the middle of Whole Foods due to the bar exam, and it turns out the bar exam isn’t the source of the panic at all. What a pleasant surprise. Counterpoint: it’s because at checkout, the twee container of salted caramel butter you’ve just purchased, alongside four single-serving bagel triads (that is correct) and alcohol, has rung up for $7.00.
Maybe I don’t know what people are like, or maybe I haven’t checked my Google Analytics account in a long time, but perhaps you’re all butter magnates. Maybe it’s normal to spend 8% of your grocery bill on agitated cream and a picture of a cow. Maybe you married the heiress to Land-O-Lakes. But I fainted and I woke up to dreadlocks in my face, and normally, that’s not how I like to wake up. Continue reading “Casco Bay Butter Salted Caramel”
Before the Bar (BTB) the Bedfellow and I really, really liked to go to late-afternoon brunch, early morning breakfast noshes, daylight bagels chewed after a few seconds under the broiler. Doesn’t matter. N’importe quoi. Breakfast, the cheap bastion of uniform awakening, is my preferred meal of choice. And all the better if there’s a little alcohol involved. Nowadays I wake up like a normal person, I grab whatever I had the night before. That’s not proper, that’s not where my heart lies. There’s no place in that palate-awakening moment for leftover sushi or a half-cold slice of pizza. Continue reading “Sign of the Whale, Stamford, CT”
Chobani, as a long-time disordered consumer of yogurt, let me be the first to gently deliver this message: knock it off. For starters, you’re making Dannon and Yoplait feel bad. They’ve only just discovered that you can make cake into a flavor for people who think cake is shameful and want to capitalize it. You’re just going to confuse them. Also, I’m pretty sure that Bobby Flay has a monopoly on the concept, flavor, feeling, and etymology of “chipotle,” so you’ll be hearing from his lawyers. Continue reading “Chobani Flip Chipotle Pineapple”
Today was a toast day. I haven’t baked bread in a long time, but I also haven’t been up to the Bedfellow’s house, either, so I decided to kill two birds with one lazy stone and go up to Western Massachusetts and get some bread from a bakery in the area for breakfast. We were lucky enough to snag one of their last daily loaves before they closed and ran out and we celebrated in proper weekend style with Wilco on the record player, cold brew with coffee ice cubes, and an array of jams, syrups, and toppings for our toast. Continue reading “Toast Day (Rocket Science and the 2nd Street Bakery)”
Yogurt is swiftly becoming the new dessert. It has tried for years. Yoplait attempted flattery through mimicry, Yo-Crunch tried to fool you with Oreos, and Chobani initiated a Ted Cruz-level smear campaign on watermelon by replacing it with yogurt. Also, all of those omnipresent fro-yo chains. They still exist, sheeple, wake up. Noosa is now expanding its creamy, cow-milked goodness to a sweeter line beyond fruit inclusions, featuring salted caramel in its smaller-format containers. Continue reading “Noosa Salted Caramel”
Jonas? We don’t need no stinkin’ Jonas. Or for that matter, snow. When J and I are hellbent on going on a trip, we go. We had planned a weekend in Miami for five months. In between that fateful plan and our return, I had surgery, school started, job schedules changed, homework happened, and United cancelled our flight three times in anticipation of the blizzard of the century.I know you know these palm trees don’t lie, baby. Continue reading “Top Five Food Destinations around Miami, FL (and some of the Keys, too)”
Happy New Year. I am taking today to quietly contemplate the beauty of food, the passage of the shitshow 2015 revealed itself to be, and stave off any impending emotions that come upon my realization that this year, I graduate, lose my cushy healthcare, take the bar, move again, or not move? I will also attempt to not kill myself in my first-ever fitness-based competition and complete the dry yet poignant and relevant novel that I have been working on since November, buy pet insurance, contribute to my IRA, cook more, and get a job. I have no resolutions. I have resolved myself to a bleak, exciting adulthood. That’s good enough for me.But today, I’m taking a goddamned break. All of that comes later. Are you ready for this? Are you ready?
I’m not. Continue reading “Poached Egg & Goose Confit Breakfast Sandwiches // Hello, 2016”
If in 2009, college-aged humans feared a zombie epidemic, in 2015 the mongering has surely turned to the transformation of the basic bitch. And dear readers, with the final sunset dawning over my apartment-turned-Starbucks, I must inform you with deep regret that I, too, have merrily joined the ranks of Lush-purchasing, pumpkin spice-consuming, scarf-adorned basics, and for that, I cannot apologize because I now communicate exclusively in emoticons.A very birthday cake winky face teapot smiling poop to all of you. Continue reading “Celestial Lattes: The Godfather”
Chi-town, we love you so. Following closely on the heels of our first Midwestern journey comes the most important, hard-hitting journalism in life, where to scope out the best donuts in the city (after a 3-6mi. jog and walk). We hit up the holiest of holed humdingers in the city and reported back with the best. Continue reading “The Top Five Donuts in Chicago, IL”
When we were in Toronto, we rented an apartment in Queens West, a neighborhood Vogue rated second only to Tokyo as one of the coolest in the world. No lie there- it was teaming with interesting places to shop, eat, explore, and see, with wonderful art and music around every corner. Not a block away was Nadège Patisserie, a bonafide slice of Paris in the middle of Canada. We were lucky enough to be there right before Croissunday, a yearly event with fifteen limited flavors of croissants, starting at 8am and ending when the bakeries run out. I waited in line for six flavors of their finest and after devouring them, we decided they were the best we’d had in or out of France. Continue reading “Croissunday at Nadège Patisserie, Toronto, ON”