OR, the antics I’ve been up to in the time we’ve spent apart.
The last time I was here, I wrote about coffee inebriation and an arguably glorious chunk of sundried tomato on a fairly tasty bagel. That was, by all accounts, NOT a great way to unwittingly enter what would turn out to be a 2+ month hiatus from blogging. Those of you who have clicked on over here to check for any updates have, for 73 days, been greeted by a close-up of gooey pink cream cheese. I could’ve at least deigned to post a photo of a charming lavender and honey-glazed cupcake or still-steaming curry puffs, and spared you the feeling of vague queasiness that, come to find out, can be a side effect of looking too closely at wads of dried tomato bathing in cream cheese.
All I can say to that is: thank you to those of you who’ve kept checking the site, who haven’t unsubscribed from my RSS feed, who still follow me on Twitter, who haven’t found a way to otherwise disown me from your Internet. I’ve been flaky this past year, abandoning my various outlets for social media and networking, opting instead to focus on what was right there in front of me… and there was a lot. I’ve finished my first year at Brown, during which I took unbelievable classes and got to know insanely intelligent, interesting, exciting people. I even ate some yucky cafeteria food. Then I came home, and that was crazy, too. But I’m back in New Orleans, back in the scheme of things, finally with my bearings straight. Before I tell you all my stories about dining out and eating in, I’ll outline some of the other ventures that have been occupying my time and keeping me away from writing, from the Internet, and from you.
-I made it through my first Spring Weekend at Brown… and my first finals period.
-I missed home so much that I jetted back down for Jazz Fest, ate more food than a 19-year-old girl’s body should be able to contain, and saw music that reaffirmed my love for this city.
-I only needed to spend $30 to ship things home. As soon as I dropped my bags off, I had my first dinner back at Taqueria Corona. One fish taco, one carne asada taco… oh yeah.
-I had my second dinner back on fresh gazpacho following a trip to the dog park. This is summer!

It's probably safe to say that every beautiful photo on this blog, like this one, was taken by Caroline Panini Malouse.
-I didn’t get to see my New Orleanian best friend nearly enough before she went across the country again to be her sunshiney, saving-the-world-one-prospective-student-at-a-time self. Come back, Jennalina Cakester. We shall feast on fluffy luv patties, Camellia Grill, and that chicken from Lilette.
-I scared my (seafood-phobic) Long Islandian best friend by sending her pictures of me sucking the heads of crawfish. There is a number of things about this photo that might be jarring to someone else.
-I started working full-time at Sucré. Fellas, THIS is really where I’ve been all summer. I used to consume desserts. Now they consume me. I have dreams in which I’m frantically organizing chocolates on their gleaming silver trays, as such…
Not that I wasn’t before, but if there was any doubt, I am now intimately familiar with each of the chocolates and macaroons, entremets and fancy-schmancy beverages, that Sucré proffers. A couple of my coworkers think that I talk to the chocolates when nobody’s around, so tender is our relationship.
-In desperate search of barbecue following the discovery that The Joint is closed on Sundays, Panini, Andy and I stumbled upon Bywater BBQ. They make passable food, including a passable pulled pork sandwich, and will even serve it to you in their breathtaking courtyard if you’re willing to brave the mosquitoes. Someone had a little trouble typing up the menu, which is rife with comical typos, including this one:
“Portable mushrooms.” As in portobello, which I would be overjoyed to port with me everywhere.
-Channeling Alton Brown, I hunkered down in the kitchen with ladles, myriad measuring cups, and a notebook, and finally settled on what I consider to be the perfect lemonade recipe, with optional add-ins. Stay tuned.
This summer, Sucré unveiled a line of sundaes that are on par with the other stunning, decadent, inspiring desserts at the shop. I happen to love piling those glass sundae bowls with caramel sauce and bread pudding, mixed berries and brownie croutons, but the Neapolitan Profiterole (pictured above) is my favorite to make. Scoops of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry gelati are piped with fresh whipped cream and cocoa nibs, then finished with drizzled strawberry sauce and chocolate sauce, all between sliced choux pastry. For most, this is perfectly satisfying (to say the very least). However, there are a certain few others who want a little something extra…
One gentleman, insisting he needed to gain weight (God, I wish I had that problem), purchased two eclairs and plied us to use them in lieu of the normal pastry shell. That’s what you see here. It is…singular.
- I WENT BLUEBERRY PICKING. That needed to be in caps. It’s something I always, always wanted to do but never found the time. As it turns out, all it took to fix this was a morning spent poring over PickYourOwn.org and an hour and a half-long drive to Lumberton, Mississippi, where the folks at Pearl River Blues blueberry farm blew us away with their warmth, hospitality, passion, and know-how. Amy Phelps, who owns the farm with her husband, Alan, showed me around, answered all my questions about farming and living in the country and what the sky looks like at nighttime, and she even cut us a bunch of beautiful flowers to take home with us.
A gallon of blueberries costs only $9, and it honestly makes for the most incredible afternoon. Wear closed shoes, bug spray, and as little clothing as you can get away with. Nibble blueberries as you pick ‘em (just not the unripe ones – I got curious and learned that there’s a reason they don’t get picked!) and head over to Flint Creek afterward to cool off in the watering hole. It’s still blueberry season for another two solid weeks! Go forth and bring home your goodies so you can make pork chops in blueberry reduction, lemon-blueberry pie, blueberry muffins with walnuts, extra-special raspberry yogurt studded with berries and cocoa-roasted almonds, spinach salad with blueberries and goat cheese…
-That photo speaks for itself.
-I initiated an out-of-towner to the intense love and fervor in this city, complete with plenty of Hansen’s snowballs, a half-and-half Domilise’s po-boy while we’ve still got those plump oysters, anecdote-filled tours, and meandering walks through the French Quarter.
-A highlight of a trip to our lovely aquarium was the Gulf of Mexico exhibit, in which toothy sharks swim amongst giant Manta rays and metallic, kayak-sized fish. Thank you to our sponsors!
Not you, Shell. Certainly not ExxonMobil. Don’t think we haven’t forgotten about that Valdez scandal. The people of Alaska still aren’t the same.
-I served wine to partygoers at an art gallery. Also, I was not wearing pants. Just one of the shirts made by the artist. This was the first time I have been paid to walk around half-clothed.
-THE ROCHER GELATO AT SUCRÉ IS SO GOOD. In what I’m convinced was a stroke of genius, I put a half-scoop in a tiny espresso cup, to minimize waste and to maximize adorability. This is not on the menu.
-Sometimes, because I’m the baby on staff, I’m persuaded to wear pigtails.



























