Honey, Delicious Science


First of all, let’s get one thing straight. Honey doesn’t come from a bee’s bum. It’s vomit. Tasty vomit.

Secondly, there’s the popular stereotype that girls aren’t good at math. I’m calling shenanigans on that one. All worker bees are female, and bees excel at hexagons in their hives. Which is possibly the most perfect shape, according to those hipsters, the mathematicians.

These busy little women barf the nectar into their honeycombs, slurp it up to digest for a bit in their ‘honey stomachs’, and barf it again repeatedly until they’re happy with the quality. Then they fan it with their wings to evaporate most of the water. Once it’s passed bee-inspection, it’s got the shelf life of a Twinkie.

Honey has been collected for over 10,000 years and used for food, medicine, religious practices, and embalming (again with these wacky Egyptians). Old folk remedies are being vindicated by modern medicine, and honey is once more being recognized for its healing properties. From sore throats, coughs and ulcers, to serious burns and open wounds. It inhibits the growth of bacteria, and when exposed to oxygen, will actually form hydrogen peroxide.

But the most important thing about honey is that it tastes delicious. Almost every cuisine has a use for honey in food preparation. From stir-fried tofu, to milk sweets, to baking, to beer. We Americans are used to seeing honey mostly as ‘honey mustard’, or ‘honey barbecue’. Or in breakfast cereals. The funny thing is though, if you look at the ingredients list, sometimes it actually includes honey. Sometimes.

Honey is tasty when used properly in cooking. It’s also a famous source of “getting too drunk to remember what I did last night.” The ancient Indians (from India) and Greeks did love their little tipple of drink now and again in the form of mead. And the Vikings were big fans, spreading love of mead across Europe and beyond. It may explain why they got as far as the Americas.

Haven’t you ever had a few drinks and thought to yourself how perfect a frozen pizza would be for a late night snack–and next thing you know, you’re waking up in someone’s beanbag chair, cuddling an empty family-size Cheez-it box and clutching a doorknob to an as-yet-undetermined house? They probably had that same “oh, crap, where did we park the longship?” feeling when they woke up in Canada.

Mead is not the only form of honey that gets you in the wrong way. When bees make honey from the wrong flowers, it could get you drunk and even dead. Oleander is a no-brainer. It’s poisonous, and it makes a wonderful decorative shrub. Not a good honey. And several kinds of laurel and rhododendron make bad honey–locals beware that azalea is in this family. By bad honey, I mean dizziness, vomiting, irregular heartbeat, convulsions, and even death.

If all bees just disappeared (yes, we’re looking at that problem with Colony Collapse Disorder), many of the vegetables and fruit we enjoy would have no pollinators and they would stop producing. So honey or no honey, bees are more valuable than we realize in our everyday hum-drum lives. Some vegans feel we should refrain from eating honey as well, as this exploits members of the animal kingdom. Maybe bees figured it out and are just not showing up for work anymore.

Get your hands on some honey while you can. Good honey comes in a variety of colors and flavors. It doesn’t drip like water; it pours in ribbons like syrup. And it only has honey in it. A jar that lists ingredients other than honey should be rejected and scoffed at. Heating honey above 98.6 degrees starts to destroy any beneficial qualities, but it still tastes good. So eat honey plain in the raw when you can.

Many cultures equate honey with fertility. Probably why an affectionate name for your significant other is ‘honey’. Kind of ironic that something starting with lady bees throwing up, is honored as a magic elixir, that if it works, results in human women throwing up. For the first trimester at least.


Chopstix Cafe

Chopstix Cafe

We’ve been going to Chopstix so long, we probably lack complete objectivity about it as a restaurant. It’s just one of the places we like to go when we want good vegetarian options at good prices. We’ve come to expect the slow, ultra-casual service as much as we expect the ever-changing view of the water out the big windows. It’s usually crowded with college students and locals during rush times, and almost empty the rest of the time. The menu hasn’t changed much over the years. Neither has the food. Neither have the giant fish sulking in their tanks. In fact, the only thing that changed was the family’s little kids, who went from baby carriers to homework at the big bar.

Even when they burst out of the mold and opened their Bistro location up on the NW side of town, it was pretty much the same thing but in a nicer facility. The menu is slightly different up at the Bistro, but the staff are easily recognized from the Cafe/13th St restaurant.

And then rumor hit that they were renovating the old place recently. What? Who allowed this to happen?

We had to swing by for a late lunch to see what had happened. It was possible they had obliterated all of our old memories along with the chintzy Chinese wall art and the rip-off of Hokusai’s Great Wave over the sushi bar. I would be happy if they replaced the wobbly cafe tables and chairs that sent my Thai iced tea cup skittering wildly at random moments.

All said and done, it’s the same old place, but with a gentle make-over. The dining areas have been reworked significantly for better flow. The deck out back has been given a little TLC and a bunch more tables for those nice days you’d like to sit and watch the water of Biven’s Arm. The giant bar that dominated the room to the right of the entrance has been reduced and sent far down to the left next to the new carry-out door and counter. That old bar space now has a fancy glass wall separating the restaurant from a chic WhiteBerry frozen yogurt franchise, finally providing a tempting dessert option.

The pan-Asian menu still hasn’t changed much, which is a good thing by the way. There are still a lot of vegetarian options, sushi, bento, and drinks. The gargantuan bowls they served everything in seemed to have shrunk just a bit. The same faces and same casual service attitude remain. And yes, there is still the random fly buzzing wearily against the windows to get out.

Chopstix Cafe
3500 SW 13th St
Gainesville FL 32608


M-T | 11AM-10PM
F-S | 11AM-11PM
Sunday | 12noon-8PM

Prices: Medium ($10-20 per meal)


Pee You Later, Asparagus!


Oh, yes! The jokes about asparagus-scented pee. Why the fascination? And why the historic argument about it? Apparently people have been arguing about asparagus-scented pee for hundreds of years. Whether everyone who ate asparagus has funny smelling pee afterward. Whether everyone could smell it. Whether it was a good smell or a bad smell. Really?

Leave it up to modern scientists to get down and dirty with the most trifling of arguments. They actually did studies about it and published big fancy papers on their results. At least we now know. Yes, everyone who eats asparagus has funny smelling pee. No, not everyone can smell it. Apparently because of genetics, only about 1/5 of the population can positively identify the smell. Some people cannot. And it’s a personal preference if asparagus is an improvement over regular pee or not.

I never thought much about it until I started reading Tom Robbins, and in his book Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas he colors an intimate exchange between characters with the promise of asparagus-scented pee. Very few authors could get away with this.

When buying asparagus, look at the dark tips to make sure they look fresh and not slimy. There are of course many incorrect things you can do when cooking asparagus. To me, the two worst things are overcooking it, and leaving too much stem on it. Asparagus should be just barely past raw. Lightly sauteed to wake it up. I generally like it a simple as possible to let the flavors speak for themselves. A little olive oil in the pan with salt and pepper, and maybe some diced ginger and a splash of lemon juice. Only when the pan is hot and the ginger sizzling, do I toss in the asparagus and cover-turn-cover for just a few minutes. When it shows the first sign of relaxing, long before it goes limp, take it off the heat and out of the pan.

Before you toss it into the pan, you have to take off the fibrous part of the stalk so that you don’t spend half the night chewing, or trying to figure out how to cough up an asparagus hairball with a little more grace than a cat. The simplest method to separate tender from tough is to hold the base of the stalk firmly in one hand pointed away from you, and with the other hand, gently grab the tip and start bending it towards you until you feel the resistance in the stem. It will usually snap itself easily at just the right spot. Try it a few times and you’ll see how easy it is to find the snapping point.

But why waste all of that stem and get only a little of a pricey veggie that makes you pee smell funny? Ultimately, because asparagus is a delicious source of nutrients, including a wide range of vitamins and minerals (significantly folic acid, vitamin K, iron), and fiber. Many different cooking cultures celebrate asparagus, so there’s quite a few ways to prepare it. Yet oddly enough, it’s grown in only a few places around the world (notably Michigan, Washington, California, China, Peru).

We are of course only talking about the typical green asparagus commonly available in most grocery stores. Originally there was only wild asparagus, much thinner than the current favorite, and this was harvested as far back as 3000 B.C. by the Egyptians. Our common green asparagus developed over time as it became a sought-after crop. There is a contemporary demand for white asparagus (shoots are grown under soil) in Europe, as well as a few newer breeds being developed. You can usually find it canned or ‘marinated’ if you can’t find it fresh. The Egyptians once dried it, which is just something those wacky folks seemed to love doing.

Asparagus is another of those veggies that has people worked up. Most people have an opinion about it. Some refuse to eat it. Some make websites devoted to its awesomeness. The possibilities are endless for this delicious, nutritious veggie. And worse comes to worst, you’ll know if you’re in that group of 22% who are genetically capable of accurately sniffing out asparagus pee.


Sriracha Sauce

Sriracha Sauce

There are very few things The Man won’t put Sriracha sauce on. I am not kidding here. I’ve known ketchup addicts, and now I’m beginning to find a sub-cult of Sriracha addicts. There are times I think I may have to carry a bottle of Sriracha in my purse in case we find a restaurant that doesn’t have it when it’s critical to the meal.

Most people think of Sriracha as a way to disguise mediocre Asian food, but talk to a few addicts and they’ll get a little teary-eyed about their passion for this spicy sauce. It’s easily recognizable as the big bottle with the green top and the cock on the front. Although the recipe was perfected by a smaller company in Thailand, Huy Fong Foods in California created an American variation and helped popularize it from coast to coast. You can find it in most mainstream Asian food places, and increasingly in other restaurants (you might have to ask for it).

The chili paste and garlic is combined with vinegar, salt, and pepper, similar to ketchup. But this sauce has a kick that appeals to spice-lovers. If you don’t like spicy food, use this sparingly until you can gauge your tolerance level vs. the flavor enhancement.

Not only is this a great sauce to put on burgers, Chinese take-out, sandwiches, and fries, it’s fun to add a little to a stir-fry, soup, and pasta while you’re cooking because the flavor profile and spice adds some attitude. We’re not against some attitude in food around here.

Even if you think you know Sriracha, if you’ve only ever had it in a Chinese restaurant over your Chow Mein or Pad Thai, you don’t know Sriracha. I promise. Try it on a veggie burger or kabobs at your next barbecue, put a few dabs on your pizza, or include some in your next 10-bean soup for a tasty twist on the legume overload.

Huy Fong Foods home
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Cheese Plate, Emiliano’s Cafe

Cheese Plate, Emiliano's Cafe

I hate to sound bourgeoisie, but there’s something lovely about lunching on the terrace on a beautiful day. Especially with a glass of sangria and some pretty little bits to eat.

I was in bit of a sulk the other day, a random day The Man and I had off work together, and he was trying to coddle my irrational female moods. So he gave up his need for Sachels pizza and took me downtown to find a patio to sit on. I like the area because you can park and walk to any number of interesting places, even though the streets are mostly brick and my heels get trapped often.

We’ve always tried to like Emiliano’s Cafe more than we actually do. It’s a typical Downtown Gainesville restaurant–old building, interesting menu, full bar, live music occasionally. But to be quite honest, it feels somewhat like an elegant woman that has been letting herself go for a few years now. The intention is still there, but there’s a lack of the magic that gives something its personality.

My sangria tasted out of a box, the salad was out of a bag, and The Man’s fish sandwich looked better in the picture I took than it tasted going down. Nothing was outright bad, but it just wasn’t remarkably good. Nothing I would openly recommend to friends.

On the other hand, we were always fond of their cheese plate, and although it wasn’t on the lunch menu, the waitress passed our request to the kitchen, which was happy to do up a plate for us. The Man and I are of the belief “You don’t ask, you don’t get.”

(Stop talking and tell me about the cheese!) Okay!

So there was the usual fruits–apple, grapes, mango–and walnuts and slivered almonds, as well as some fairly crisp crostinis (ask for it without the mean to avoid prosciutto or seranno ham). I couldn’t even tell you what the third cheese was–some sort of cow’s milk thing, medium-soft, non-offensive, somewhat sweet and mild. A pure white color like vintage milk glass. Yes, I will try to find out what it was eventually.

Then there as a wedge of Manchego, a Spanish sheep’s milk cheese (Manchega sheep, don’t you know), made in La Mancha. Land of Don Quixote. It is a somewhat dense, oily cheese with a gorgeous nutty, salty flavor. The rind is usually a dark basket-weave pattern that is easily recognizable, and the body is a glowing off-white color. Manchego cheese is cave-aged for 2 months or more, and if you’re in the shops, look for a 12 month cheese since it gets nuttier and richer with age.

The main cheese on the plate as far as either of us were concerned was similar to the Manchego, but the rind was crusted with rosemary and olive oil. The flavor permeated the whole body of the cheese. It turned out it was actually in the same family as Manchego, the sheep’s milk from La Mancha family. But this style is called Romao Queso al Romero. It’s described as “rubbed with rosemary and olive oil”, but the rosemary is pressed into the rind and packed tightly. (Some makers use lard instead of olive oil, so keep an eye on this is you want to avoid lard.)

A rosemary rind looks quite pretty on the plate. Don’t think of it as decoration though. The mild nutty Manchego style (this one probably aged from 3 to 9 months) is elevated by adding rosemary’s earthy, wild flavors. This is not a timid cheese, and should be paired with something equally strong and earthy. I loved the walnuts with it, but the fruit on the plate was too mild or sweet. I would eat this with pesto on a sesame cracker, some strong green olives (Castelvetrano!), or with a glass of Spanish tempranillo wine. This cheese has such a beautiful flavor curve that it doesn’t need any other food to enhance it.

Despite the ho-hum meal, the weather was great (for an inland Florida July), the cheese was fantastic. And of course it was nice to have the day off with The Man. He might tell a different version of the story since he had to tolerate me being an irrational, moody female.

Manchego Sheep’s Cheese
Approx $20-40 per lb.

Romao Queso al Romero
Approx $16-26 per pound

Emiliano’s Cafe
7 SE 1st Ave
Gainesville, FL 32601
:: Cheese Plate (tapas menu) – $12


True Blue Falafel Burger, The Top

True Blue Falafel Burger

This picture is a little blurry, I know. It was hard to shoot this burger while it was moving so quickly towards my mouth. I think there’s still cheese in my camera lens.

I was hungry. And when I’m hungry, I dream about this thing. The True Blue Falafel Burger at The Top.

A while back, The Top switched over and started doing as much of their menu as possible in-house. From ‘burger’ patties and seitan bacon, to saurkraut, to salad dressings and dips. They make it in the kitchen instead of open a box or can. A while back they used to have portobello, black bean patties, or pre-made veggie burgers as their vegetarian burger options, which you could do any number of ways from their ‘style’ menu. They dropped the mushroom and the veggie patty, and introduced this falafel patty instead.

You may be familiar with falafel if you like Middle Eastern food. Most people know falafel as the sandwich of flat bread and deep fried chickpea or fava bean balls. And if you haven’t experienced it this way, put some pants on and get yourself down to Falafel King. Falafel is just the balls part, which is also often shaped into ‘fingers’ and patties. Hence, the falafel patty at The Top instead of a burger.

As always, you can choose from The Top’s ‘style’ menu of fifteen options when deciding on a burger. There’s the Smurf ‘n’ Turf (sourdough, mushroom ragout, arugula, blue cheese), the Southwestern (guacamole, sharp cheddar, jalapenos), or the Maradona (chimichuri, fried onions, peppers, swiss cheese). I adore the True Blue… blue cheese that gets all squishy, fried onions with a sweet kick, and the crispy seitan bacon that hugs the falafel patty. All of it held together with lettuce and the usual accouterments between a pretzel roll.

If you don’t like blue cheese (yes, I know, right? Why do I have these friends?), you can try the Triple Cheese with the falafel patty instead… sharp cheddar, smoked gouda, swiss, and fried onions. But trust me. The blue cheese, onions, ‘bacon’ combination is perfect with the falafel.

And if you’re feeling frisky, substitute the usually fries or whatnot out for the sweet potato fries. You get your choice of regular fries, potato salad, or ginger slaw generally speaking, but at The Top I always suggest substitutions for something that tickles your fancy. Like corn nuggets. Or the soup of the day which is usually delish.

The Top
True Blue Falafel Burger – $8.95
…with side of sweet potato fries – $1.50
…and a crisp, cold cider on a humid summer night – $4.95
..on the patio with a friend 🙂


Veggie Summer Rolls

Summer Rolls

The early bird gets the worm, right? Yuck. Worms?

Well, okay. Maybe if eating worms was like eating veggie summer rolls. I like to think birds feel about worms and caterpillars the way I feel about summer rolls. Sticky, awkward, crunchy, flavorful, and full of yummy god-knows-what. I mean, sometimes the rice vermicelli even looks like innards to me. Delicious innards that need to be dipped into peanut sauce.

Every restaurant makes their veggie summer rolls a little differently. You can usually be greeted by a fresh roll or two of sticky rice paper tucked neatly around finely shredded veggies like carrot, cabbage, celery, lettuce, or cucumbers (and tofu if you find the right place). If it’s not specifically veggie, you may be getting a roll with pork or shrimp, the traditional ‘other’ ingredients.

The real pleasure is in the fresh herbs that are wrapped into this squishy packet of fun. I’ve never been impressed with fresh mint in a savory dish, but it’s absolutely critical in the flavor balance with the cilantro, and basil–and the scallions, which stick out of the roll on one end like green antennae. And of course a peanut dipping sauce brings an earthiness to the fresh, herby roll.

I rarely ever pick up my summer roll and pretend it’s a caterpillar with green scallion antennae. I promise. I think The Man would stop taking me out in public if I did that too often.

We generally go to either if the Ichiban Sushi places here in town, or to either of the Chopstix (but they’re a little clunkier there). But the absolute best, if you’re ever in Tampa, is Trang Viet Cuisine.

Trang is a little hole-in-the-wall storefront in a sketchy neighborhood. The décor is reminiscent of low-budget prom. It hardly looks like much when you walk in. It’s one of those places that are so good, you only tell friends about so that it doesn’t get too crowded. They have a really good veggie selection, including a platter that had two each of four kinds of rolls (including summer rolls) and complimenting dipping sauces. We waddled out of there that day, let me assure you.

I’m linking to another blog here for Vegetable Spring Rolls with Peanut Dipping Sauce on Two Peas & Their Pod (the names spring/summer rolls can get swapped back and forth apparently). I want to go back and try the recipes for myself and this is easier than bookmarking them. So if you try the recipes, let me know if they’re any good, m’kay?

And while you’re there, follow their link through to the next blog WhiteOnRiceCouple.com for some disgustingly gorgeous food pics.

Trang Viet Cuisine
1524 E Fowler Ave
Tampa, FL 33612
(813) 979-1464


Chocolate Bourbon Torte, The Top

Chocolate Bourbon Torte

Whether you like Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” or Nine Inch Nail’s “Closer” when you’re in the mood, you’re going to want to pull it up on your playlist (or slide the record onto the turntable), and then turn the lights down low for this piece of deliciousness.

You’re more than welcome to eat the Chocolate Bourbon Torte while you’re at The Top, but chances are, you’re too full from dinner. We usually have a piece to go, and carry it home with us for later. In private. Yes, with the lights down low.

It’s a sinfully dense chocolate cake base with a thick, gooey, caramely, bourbony, nutty layer of rich filling and a thick skin of dark chocolate icing. If it sits at room temperature long enough, the nutty filling starts to ever-so-slowly ooze out the sides and drool at glacial speed down the sides of the cake. I doubt you can leave it sit that long though. It whispers from its to-go box. Possibly in French. Venir ici. Le lécher. Le dévorer…

One piece is enough to share between two people because it is so rich and dense. And of course sharing requires you to sit quite close to each other. We don’t generally look for excuses to get close, but bringing a piece of torte home is a treat.

One night I lost control of the to-go box and the cake rolled free along the floor of the car, gathering lint from the rug before I could rescue it. I swear I was not drinking that night. An accident, pure and simple. The Man looked properly sad at the loss.

I still ate it. After attempting to remove some of the lint of course. I at it for breakfast the next morning, after he had gone to work to avoid his eye-rolling. It was luxurious. And for once it was all mine!

I think I played “Your Heart is Black as Night” by Melody Gardot.

Chocolate Bourbon Torte
The Top


Ménage à Trois Wines

Menage a Trois wineDespite its kitchy, catchy branding, the Ménage à Trois line of wine is worth checking out. This has been a standard at book club here since some smart ass brought the first bottle for a laugh.

The premise is that for each of the four styles of wine, there is a blend of three varietals, hence the wink at the naughty threesome concept. Folie à Deux has several vineyards in Napa Valley, and has been producing wine for a few decades. You can tell from their branding and website that they invested a chunk of change into marketing, but it was a sound investment to support a decent wine offering.

Our usual at book club is the California Red, a blend of zinfandel, cabernet sauvignon, and merlot. It is a young wine with a great, wet mouth feel and lots of berry flavor notes. It’s lovely for those non-wine people who like a glass once in a while but don’t know more than “red, white, pink, or bubbles” when it comes to choosing wine. We like to have a bottle of this in the rack at home as a standard.

I’m just not even going to talk about the California Rosé because I’ve not knowingly had rosé wine before, and don’t know if I plan on changing that ever. I just can’t get out of my head that it’s the zenith of girly-girl sugar syrup, and I would feel too self-conscious holding a glass of that in public. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not very butch. I love pink. I ONLY own high heels. I have a Hello Kitty toaster (and I use it!). But pink wine? Hm.

The California White blend is high on my list of options in the summer when I’m looking for something to chill down and drink outside. Especially if I’m going to a friend’s event and need to bring a bottle with a lot of curb appeal. Because really, how fun is it to bring something with a naughty label to a party? Chilled down, this blend still has a sweetness that can get tiring if you don’t like white wine. On the other hand, it’s still that kind of wine that will satisfy wine novices without offending people who know a little bit about wine. The low papaya flavor supports the high lime notes, and the crisp mouth feel is tasty on a hot day. It’s a blend of chardonnay, chenin blanc, and moscato, so the sassy bite saves it from the sweetness.

The Chardonnay blends grapes from three counties in the region, each offering their own characteristics to this balanced bottle. It has a mild flavor curve from start to finish, with just a leaning towards the middle citrus notes. The mouth feel hints at the classic buttery, round sensations, but it is saved by the light floral fragrance and clean finish. I’m picky about my chards, having fallen head over heels for some fun wine on our trip the NY Finger Lakes region. Ménage à Trois’ Chardonnay is nice to have on hand and bring to events because it’s affordable and quite drinkable though. I favor it over their White blend if I’m faced with a friend who doesn’t do red wine. (*cough*Freak!*cough*)

Folie à Deux does offer a selection aside from these four blends, but these are the easiest to get and can be found at reasonable prices. I’d be interested to try some of their single varietal bottles someday since I’ve not actively explored the Napa wines yet.

The Ménage à Trois blends can usually be found for $8 to $10 each, and they come in mixed cases so you’re bound to find all four wherever you see one. We usually have the 2007 and 2008 bottles, but I’ve just seen a 2009 on the shelf recently. Might have to pick up one.

We book club ladies have (mostly) stopped making threesome jokes whenever someone brings a bottle. But it’s fun to bring it out and serve it to someone who hasn’t had it yet. It’s amazing the variety of jokes that pop out of even the most conservative mouth.

Ménage à Trois
by Folie à Deux
California Blends
About $8-10 bottle
• California Red
• California White
• Chardonnay
• Rosé


Pistachio Pinwheel, Uppercrust

Pistachio Pinwheel

I’m not a competitive person by nature. No really, it’s true. But when I race into Uppercrust on an afternoon and see only one pistachio pinwheel left in the case, I’ll elbow my own grandma out of the way to get to the front of the line.

We have always gone for our regular pastries at Uppercrust, but one of the staff recommended these funny looking guys one day, and we’ve been hooked ever since. Generally, anything with pistachio in it is fair game. Add that to the flaky, puffy, sugar-topped pastry of a pain au chocolate, and it’s more than you could imagine. I don’t even mind the last lumpy and hunch-backed pinwheel in the tray.

There’s a $5 French name for the pistachio pinwheel, but I barely clawed my way through my French classes in high school (I got a D++, so that was technically passing), and so I have a mild aversion to memorizing anything to do with the language. And besides, Pistachio Pinwheel describes it perfectly, and it’s a bit festive.

Unless you like hearing your arteries harden as you eat, I absolutely suggest sharing one of these with someone rather than attempting one on your own. They’re as big as your hand, and topped with a butter/pistachio deliciousness. And then sprinkled liberally with that chunky decorator’s sugar. The Man and I can finish one between us easily, but one is usually enough. If anything, split a pain au chocolate also. Chocolate!

The other day when I dashed through Uppercrust and made my ridiculous purchases, I am pretty sure I didn’t physically harm any of the customers who were in my way. I think I did cackle a little though when I left. I don’t think anyone heard me muttering, “My precious… My precious…” though.

Pistachio Pinwheel
About $3.75-4.50