Cro-nuts for Crumbnuts

How’s my week going?

Well, I almost drove into oncoming traffic while looking at a poster for cronuts in the Crumbs Cupcakes window, I’ve been commuting 45 minutes to work in a car with no A/C in 100 degree weather, and at one point, a Trader Joe’s cashier seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being. 

Overall, I find TJ’s employees to be way too prying and overly friendly. I appreciate them asking if I have a fun weekend planned, but they always take that next step too far and ask me what I’m doing. You have checked my ID and can see I’m a 24-year-old buying only $4 wine, egg whites, a quart of skim milk, and Ezekiel bread, so what do you think I’m doing? Eating an egg sandwich for dinner, drinking a glass of wine while listening to “Bad Girls” by MIA, then teetering around West Hollywood in cork wedges, desperately trying to make a human connection with a man I hope won’t slip a rohypnal into whatever variation of a gin and elderflower cocktail I’m drinking. Like, why bother asking?

Anyway, my cashier made some intense eye contact and asked if I was okay, then proceeded to tell me how I have “beautiful eyes, and do I get that a lot?, and I just think this world is just such a hard place and we should all be kinder to each other and compliment each other more.” Now, I could, could have launched into a feminist tirade about how he would never say that to a male customer, and why does he assume that my emotional well-being is tied to a strange man’s approval of my appearance, BUT. But. He meant well. I think he gave himself a pat on the back for probably saving me from turning on some Patsy Cline and Girl, Interrupting myself in a warm bath. And let him think that.

In reality, though, I just have something called a Resting Bitch Face, so people are constantly asking if I’m okay.

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Anyway, anyway. Crumbnuts. Probably the best part of my week? They’re just a cross between a donut and a croissant, though I will go out on a limb and say these particular cronut knock-offs are just a croissant shaped like a donut, filled with Bavarian creme. Still good, though I felt like a garbage can after I finished it. God did not intend for humans to eat cronuts. Or movie theatre nachos. Or Dominos stuffed cheesy bread. Yet here we are, and here we shall remain. Human trash compactors.

Sorry, does this sound like a suicide note?

If you’re interested in reading something that doesn’t sound like it was written in Winona Ryder’s journal circa 1992, you should check out Kasey’s Kitchen, a blog written by my coworker, without whom, those cronuts would not be possible. She had a bunch of Crumbs gift cards and a dream.

Also, formal apology to Kasey for including her in my bell-jar of a blog post.

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Sugarlyn Cakes

I have lived a very difficult life at the hands of my mother. Because of her, nearly every elementary school class birthday has been ruined for me. Since childhood, I have had an extremely refined palate for cakes due to her superior baking, which makes it impossible for me to enjoy grocery store baked goods or canned frostings, and I seemed to be the only 8 year old who knew that apple juice does not go with cake. Milk goes with cake, MILK! Who raised you, elementary school parents? Certainly not my mother.

On a weekly basis I had to politely eat the cupcakes and juice parents brought in for birthdays, wishing that like the other students, I was blissfully ignorant to the delicious cupcakes that existed in the world. Cupcakes that ruin you for all other cupcakes. The only solace I had was when my birthday rolled around and my mother could finally bring in her baked goods and MILK. We always killed it for my class birthday. In the fifth grade, I came up with the brilliant and totally unexpected plan to have a Hoodsie sundae bar. The best class birthdays always came from the chubby kids, and thanks to my size 16’s I was throwing milk-fused ragers.

I’ve always told my mother she should sell her cupcakes, and after winning the baking contest at the Fluff festival a few weeks ago, she finally decided to do it!

Introducing Sugarlyn Cakes!

 

{instagram: @daralaine}

So if you ever want to order some, let me know. For the drop-off, we can meet in a public, neutral location in case you’re using your cupcake order as an opportunity to murder me while enjoying delicious treats.

Fluff Festival in Somerville, MA

Can I interest you in a little light reading? Mostly pictures, nothing you have to think too hard about. A “FLUFF” piece, if you will?

On Saturday, I went to the Fluff* Festival in Somerville, MA (which is basically just Boston with a little bit more parking) with my saintly mother, Lynne. The hipsters and hipsters with children (apparently, their skinny jeans  have not cut off enough circulation to their genitalia to stop them from having children. Shame. Also, doesn’t Genitalia sound like something a hipster would name their kid?) were out in full force. We didn’t let that stop us, though. There was marshmallow creme product to be eaten, and we were all business.

The best of the food was the pumpkin fluff cannoli, which was essentially just a tube of fried dough. Another highlight was the coffee porter with fluff vodka and a Fluff floater, and the Shipyard Pumpkinhead with Vanilla Vodka and a Fluff floater. Both were delightful, and I can probably never drink or smell them again. 😦

{Follow me on Instagram: @daralaine}

But the best part of the day was when my mom won the baking contest with her pumpkin cupcakes with maple-Fluff cream cheese frosting!

I’m so proud!

*Does anyone reading this NOT know what Fluff is? I thought everyone did, but I think it’s just a New England thing, which means we are obnoxious about it. It’s marshmallow creme, made in Lynn, Mass… we use hot cocoa as a vessel for Fluff. Or we eat it by the spoonful. One time I made an eggo panini using two eggos, peanut butter, fluff, and a Mike Tyson grill. Is that an eating disorder? [Update: Mike Tyson doesn’t have a grill, it was a broken george foreman grill that didn’t heat up so I just smooshed the eggo’s together. Eating disorder?]

Obsessed With: Truwhip

I love me some fat free Cool Whip as a lil’ treat on the days between binge eating sessions when I eat like a normal human who possesses some form of self restraint. However, Cool Whip is essentially just made out of edible chemicals (and by “edible” the scale here is, like, edible being Play Doh and non-edible being Plexiglass).

Truwhip, though, is just like fat-free Cool Whip, but it’s:

  • 100% natural
  • 70% organic
  • no GMOs
  • no hydrogenated oils
  • trans fat free
  • gluten free
  • no high fructose corn syrup
  • no polysorbate 60
I like to make a sad, diet ice cream sandwich made with two honey brown rice cakes with Truwhip in the middle and the sides rolled in sprinkles and then frozen. It tastes nothing like ice cream, but it’s, like, mind over matter, ya know? Just concentrate until it’s ice cream (like the food fight scene in Hook). Either way, it’s a nice alternative to Cool Whip.