a moment on the lips

I'm debating whether or not to go back on the South Beach Diet. In the last few weeks I have made an attempt to eat healthier. Groceries were purchased so that I could avoid the temptation to dine out. I find my portion sizes are more realistic if I'm making my own meals. I also made try to avoid artificial items (with the exception of a can of Wolfgang Puck's New England clam chowder...what can I say, I wanted some chowdah!).

Although this is progress, I still indulge occasionally. There are some local eateries that I frequent and until I summon the nerve to commit to South Beach (for it is not something to be entered lightly) for an entire month, I will continue to frequent these places. I just try to make healthier decisions when doing so.

Saturday, in an effort to avoid a massive crowd in queue for the Bus and the inevitable corresponding hour long trip, I left for work early. And I arrived to Ward Center in 20 minutes. Haha! I knew coffee was required to function in Buca di Hellhole, but instead of the habitual Starbucks run I opted for something different. Since leaving the land (in recent years it snuck it's way across the border) of the Canadian coffee haven Timmy Ho's, I miss a plain ole cup of decent coffee. Nothing flavored, foamed, or fancy...just good strong fresh-brewed coffee. Double cream, single sugar, if you please. Oh, and my sweet tooth was also acting up...again. So with a good book in hand, I stopped by Satura Cakes in hopes that I could spend an hour relaxing before heading in.



I was not disappointed.



In previous trips I have sampled many of their gourmet desserts and have yet to discover one I wouldn't order again.



Their coffee is strong, while still remaining enjoyable. And the delightful caramel crunch cream puff contained just enough sugar without causing me to go into diabetic shock. My only complaint is that they never leave enough room in your coffee for cream, nor do they ask. It happens every time and I'm always too distracted by the aromas to remind them, resulting in a puddle of cream diluted java in my saucer. I balance my various belongings in one arm, use my backside to open the door, and tread cautiously like a tightrope walker, hoping not to stain my shirt with the precious liquid.

My food travels also lead me back to Mac 24-7 last night. Oprah and I were not entirely impressed when we visited several months ago. Portions were adequate, but it still seemed overpriced. However, when it's 1am, your options are limited. I was hungry, but indecisive, which is usually the case with me. For some reason I decided on the cinnamon cluster pancakes. Whether or not the three pints of Newcastle I had influenced me in this decision, I don't know. But the two don't go well together. Surprise, surprise.



Yes, they are as big as they look. Over a foot in diameter and three stacks deep. I responded to the server by joking if I received a prize for finishing them. He replied that I wouldn't have to pay and he'd put a plaque up with my name on it. I smiled back in amusement until I realized he was serious. Really? Shouldn't I have been warned about this? I mean, I think it was pretty obvious I had not intended on participating in some kind of gluttonous competition upon entering. What's wrong with a girl just waiting some pancakes?

Alas, I barely made a dent. The kindly server wrapped the leftovers for me and sent me off into the night with a cake box full of pancakes that could feed a family of twelve.