There’s a First Time for Everything

There’s a First Time for Everything

I flew to Texas this week. Well, I flew to Minneapolis and then flew to Texas, because clearly that’s the most direct route. I checked my bag, I got through security in record time (Global Entry/TSA Pre-Check is 100% worth it ya’ll) and made it to my gate. Since I had some time before the first leg of my flight I figured I’d get some dinner before taking off. And greasy NY pizza is always a great choice… right? I ate about a 1/3 of the slice before I couldn’t handle anymore, it was so greasy. So I was already feeling a little blech when I finally boarded the plane. I got settled into my middle seat (between a mother and her teen/young adult son) and closed my eyes for take off. It was a rough take-off and for some reason I had been feeling nervous all day, so I took this blech feeling in my gut at take-off to the nerves and the gross pizza.

I’ve never in my life been airsick, so it didn’t even occur to me that it could happen. That feeling kept growing as we climbed higher and higher, each tremble in the plane made my stomach lurch. As soon as the seat belt light went off I went to the bathroom and tried to keep from tossing my cookies… erm… pizza. It took every ounce of will-power I had that first trip to the bathroom. I thought I’d gotten myself together and made my way back to my seat. It lasted about five minutes before I was back up and in the bathroom. I’ve never spent so much time in an airplane bathroom, but there you have it, my first bout of airsickness. I also used one of those little airsickness bags for the first time in my life.

It was terrible and felt unending. I went back to my seat for the second time, and the sweet guy offered me his aisle seat so I could easily run to the bathroom. Which I did, several times. I was miserable, until my wonderful, God-sent seatmate offered me an anti-nausea pill. It took 30 minutes to kick in, so I had about 30 minutes of not trying to keep my guts in check before we landed in Minneapolis. She gave me a second one to take just in case I needed it for the next flight. Looks like I might need to start carrying some Dramamine, or maybe not eat greasy pizza right before take-off?

Any of you ever deal with airsickness? How did/do you deal?

I’ve Got a Real Problem …

I’ve Got a Real Problem …

I’ve got a real problem guys. So I was driving through Bay Ridge (a neighborhood in Brooklyn) when I small sign caught my eye… Handwritten in chalk I see, “best cupcakes in the USA.”

I couldn’t make out the source of said claim, but that’s a pretty bold statement. And obviously, I couldn’t let it stand untested, nay, unchallenged. I made my husband circle the block and double park so I could run in. Before I get to my critique of said cupcake shop, some backstory.

I enjoy a good cupcake, but that’s the rub, there are so many bad cupcakes that finding a good cupcake is a veritable treasure hunt… no even less fruitful than that… a Sasquatch hunt. They probably exist, but they’re the stuff of legends, whispered about by the lucky few who have found them.

I say now, with the utmost humility, that I make a mean cupcake. The cake is light, fluffy, and moist. Its bitter chocolatey goodness is tempered by a sweet and ever-so-slightly salty buttercream. If I’m feeling whimsical I’ll top them with festive sprinkles, but honestly, they don’t need them.

Back to my review. Best cupcakes in the USA? Maybe, if you like a dense flavorless cake with marshmallow frosting. But if you like things like flavor and texture, then no, they are most decidedly not the best cupcakes in the USA. The shop is, however, a socially conscious bakery and they donate money to feed needy folks, and I fully support their efforts.

So what is this problem I have? The main problem is I can’t pass up a bakery and I’m more than a little judgey when it comes to cupcakes.