These past few days have been a study in caloric amplification. For example: It’s amazing how good eight ounces of eggnog tastes with a large dollop of coolwhip topping and an extra shot of Drambuie. All the better when it was chasing down a slice of my baybee’s fantastic pumpkin pecan cheesecake… one that’s been shamelessly outfitted with a healthy hat of peanut butter.
[singing] …And the whole world has to answer right now just to tell you once again: Who’s bad!?
To top it all off yesterday I ordered an amazing pizza from the previously unknown Tomato Pie Pizza Joint here in Silver Lake, which would have remained undiscovered had I not supported Small Business Saturday with a visit to my local Baller’s Hardware. There it was across the street from the hardware store as I left, and the next day when I was considering football-watching lunch options, visions of pizza danced in my head. About 45-minutes later Tomato Pie had delivered just about the best most unique I’ve ever had. It’s called the Ruthie Swan and its an 18-inch diameter of utter heaven featuring salami, green apples, gorgonzola and caramelized onion. Trust me on this, it’s phenomenal. At $22, it ain’t cheap, but after savoring it I’d only hesitate ordering it again if it was $30 — especially since with an unexpected display of restraint there were leftovers enough for dinner.
But! That was then and this is now. And while I’m gonna give myself a couple days to re-moderate my intake before stepping on the bathroom scale and have it laugh at me, I’m back on the wagon. Yogurt and banana for breakfast. Clif bars. Apples. Actual numeric servings of things rather than just bold grabby handfuls. And no peanut butter fashionably accessorizing anything. Eggnog, however? There are two bottles of Broguiere’s in the back of the fridge. And Tomato Pie’s phone number on speed dial.
I hear laughter coming from the bathroom.
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