PMS episode #: 342
Dear Diary,
I can tell I'm about to get my period because I spent the better part of yesterday afternoon with my head inside my pantry.
First, I grazed on chocolate, then cookies, then tortilla chips. Then I tried to be good and ate a nectarine, an apple with peanut butter, and then I went back to chocolate. After that, I drank chamomile tea to settle my stomach.
I thought I'd start off fresh today. Have a healthy breakfast, one that would keep me full and ward off the munchies until I could eat a healthy lunch.
After dropping my car off to be serviced, I walked to Wilshire Boulevard to get some breakfast. There is no shortage of restaurants on this part of the Wilshire strip; three Jewish delicatessens, a health food/yogurt cafe, Subway (ugh, as far as breakfast is concerned), Krispy Kreme...you get the picture, Diary.
Stangely enough, I found myself walking past all these places. It was as if my body had a will of it's own, like it was my own personal ouija indicator, guiding me toward some mysterious culinary secret.
Well, never underestimate the power of PMS, it has excellent taste. Here is where it led me:
Huckleberry is a small cafe that serves breakfast and lunch. It's only a few months old and is run by the pastry chef of a well-known eatery a few doors away.
Run by a pastry chef.
Diary, how am I supposed to resist that? PMS or no, but especially with PMS. Gah!
After ordering my fried eggs atop roasted asparagus, dusted in a fine parmesan reggiano, I was supposed to move forward to let others order while I moved on to the cashier. Instead, I remained in place, ogling these:
and these:
and these:
