Tag Archives: Sweets

C is for cookie

Leon’s Full Service, oatmeal cream pie with cherry buttercream icing.

There are worse things a person can do than eat a half-pound dessert.

You could be caught up in an international political scandal, or you could elect to come clean on a teenaged lie. These are the things I tell myself when I indulge in something that seems beyond indulgent. I mean look at that thing, it’s as big as my head.

Rachel and I sat at the bar and chatted with bartenders who never. stopped. moving. We held back on ordering the Gin Fizz, because we’ve both worked in restaurants and given the level of busyness, that would have been cruel. I kind of hate that I know things like that. Sometimes I just want to be the ignorant restaurant-goer who decides that because I want something, I’m going to have it. I don’t want to think that by ordering a particularly time-consuming and temperamental drink, my order could be the straw that breaks the bartender’s back.

It probably wouldn’t, but these are the things you think about when you’re being indulgent.

But this cookie — this cookie is something else. It’s soft and chewy and the buttercream is somehow rich and light at the same time. The icing sparked a conversation on Cool Whip — you know it’s not actually a food, right? Wired magazine did a great piece on it a while back, where they broke down all the ingredients. It’s basically plastic. Some edible form thereof. Stuff you don’t want to be eating, really. This is also something else you can say to yourself while eating a half-pound cookie with cream from Leon’s. At least you’re consuming something in a food group.

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Delia’s Chicken Sausage Stand

All hail the chicken sausage. The folks from The Porter Beer Bar expanded a few blocks down to open up this cute little stand where an old fried fish joint used to be. I am so happy to have Delia’s Chicken Sausage Stand in the neighborhood!

They are hot, juicy and full of flavor, and you gotta love the names. Darryl had the Mother Clucker (this makes me laugh every time I say it) with scrambled egg and cheese, and I had the Naked Slinger with pickled jalapenos. They’re all about the late-night craving at Delia’s, staying open until 4 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays. I mean, if you’re going to eat that late, it might as well be something that satisfies.

One thing on the menu I hesitate to try:

Double D Delight Sliders. No, you are not mistaken, that is a KRISPY KREME DONUT holding that chicken patty, with a little sour cherry cream cheese sauce for flavor. Have mercy! I don’t know, y’all. I just don’t know. Can a person recover from something so . . . wrong? I may have to step over to the bad side and find out. Don’t hate me.

Food images via Delia’s Chicken Sausage Stand

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Keepin’ it sweet

Is it just me, or did Cake Pops come out of nowhere? I’m so out of the loop!

Starbucks is featuring Starbucks Petites — they just look like happy treats. Don’t they? Starbucks lists the calorie count (200), probably to encourage you to not feel bad about eating one (or two), but this always has the unexpected effect of making me more aware of the fact I’m eating something I shouldn’t.

Needless to say, I got over it. What you see above is a Rocky Road Cake Pop and a Salted Caramel Sweet Square. I was torturing my classmates, trying to take this photo in not-ideal lighting — they just wanted me to eat the damn things, they looked so good! Ah, the life of a blogger. Some pleasure must wait in order to talk about it later. They were awesome.

And if like me, you are wondering how one gets cake on a stick, you can reference this. But don’t look for any baking party going on around here, it looks way too labor intensive.

Sidenote, I just discovered the decaf Americano. I mean, I knew it existed, I just had it for the first time, and I thought it was bold, refreshing and comforting, exactly what you need on a rainy Atlanta day. People hate on me for decaf-ing it, but I can’t do all that caffeine. I’m crazy enough as it is. And my quasi-detox of sugar has changed my palette somewhat, so I actually dig the clean taste of coffee — don’t need sugar/sweetener/syrup.

Which makes it a lot easier to justify going back to Starbucks and getting another Petite. I know. I’m chock full of contradictions.

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I’m not really hungry

But it’s cold. I feel like hibernating. I would bring:

Anne gifted me homemade dulce de leche and butter cookies. Is there anything else to say about that?

Ultimate beef stew has become a household favorite. I wish I had the energy to make it more often.

Fried apple pie from Deckard’s Tavern. Come. On.

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Don’t blame me

Oh come on, it’s hot outside. Not that you ever need an excuse to drown ice cream in beer, but it’s been hot, humid and hot around the clock here in Atlanta. My cup runneth over.

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How could I not indulge in this lambic float, courtesy of the lovely Sara Kate Gillingham-Ryan of the noted and revered blog, the kitchn? I was already hip to various beer/ice cream combos like Highland Oatmeal Porter with Java Chip, or Guinness with Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. Why it never occurred to me to try a lambic, I could not tell you. Several weeks have passed since she posted this, but I just got around to it. Don’t cry for me, I made up for lost time.

It gets pretty ugly after this point, so I’ll spare you the details, except to say that the best thing you can do for yourself after finishing this pint of bubbly, fruity, milky goodness is to pour thineself another.

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I like to eat, eat, eat

My mother always says I loved to eat. One of my first words was “more!” or likely, “mohh.” Sitting in the high chair, she says I would reach my little arms outwards toward the refrigerator, or pot on the stove (wherever sustenance was coming from) and open and close my hands, smiling “mohh? mohh?” More, indeed.

I love to sip on a nice beverage while writing in coffee shops around the city. I’m also not a coffee drinker, per se. So of course, I love going to Octane.

A girl’s gotta have inspiration. Dark Belgians will do rightly fine, thankyouverymuch. But I don’t always have to pull out my driver’s license. Can i just say, it’s really nice to still be carded?

Often times when I venture out to Buford Hwy, I don’t know what it is! — the staff gives me complimentary desserts. Just for being there. I don’t do anything special, except eat.

The server brought this little guy out to me without saying a word. I still had my mouth full of vermicelli. I ravished the bún thit nuong far too fast to take photos. Sorry.

There’s some kind of pleasure center that gets massaged when I write and chew simultaneously. Something having to do with dopamine and my frontal cortex. As i understand it, every time I engage in said activity, I get a hit. Aaaah. You can ask this guy. He was recently on Fresh Air discussing his new book How We Decide.

I’m so thankful we are not actively present to all the work our bodies go through just to do the menial things. It’s fascinating to think about, but exhausting, too. I’ll stick with writing and chewing.

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