Small Pleasures

Kind of an odd, rainy weekend around these parts. Well, it wasn’t kind of rainy — it was entirely rainy — but it was kind of odd. Off and on, I experienced the type of displacement tempered with longing that I felt most acutely in high school and college: the sort of mood whose frequency diminishes as one gets older, but never disappears completely.

Schedule craziness prevented me from cooking anything rad this weekend, but I managed to enjoy some stellar foods + beverages, despite My Hectic Lyfe. Saturday, I spent the morning researching for an article and the afternoon co-hosting an open house. By late afternoon, I was ready for a jaunt. I called Alex to see if he’d like to walk to the Castro to check out a soon-to-be-opened restaurant (more research!). Because he is the sweetest, he accompanied me on my work-related trip. We walked to Dancing Pig BBQ and snapped a few pics, and afterward, we had some walking left in us. We walked right up to The Lookout, about which we’d both been curious but had never visited.

I’m glad we finally visited: the drinks were strong, the view stellar, and the music DANCY! Manhattan in tow, I burrowed deeper into my coat and watched the foot traffic below, feeling cold and alive and five years younger — all one could hope for on a Saturday night.I woke up Sunday morning fully rested and with my stomach a-growl. Rather than hitting Mission Pie for a latte and scone (weekday indulgence), I joined Alex for tea and soup and croissants at Local: Mission Eatery. See that croissant? That was a butter pecan croissant, and it’s maybe the best one I’ve had since I was in Paris. (Note: I never had a butter pecan croissant in France, but I had piles of plain ones. This croissant blows all others out of the water.)

Regular readers and IRL friends know that I’m a pastry fiend — if it has flour and butter, I’m all about it. For a long while, I was smitten with the almond croissants at La Boulange, though I haven’t had one of those in some time. I maintain that Thorough Bread & Pastry has the best chocolate croissants in the city, but this croissant was some seriously next-level shit: with my fork, I pried apart each golden layer of dough, taking tiny bites of the nutty, buttery filling to ration it.

I saved half of my croissant “for later,” by which I mean I ate the second half as soon as I got home. Heh heh heh: that croissant! It was otherworldly. I’d go back tomorrow for a repeat performance, but I feel that such treats should be eaten only occasionally, lest overconsumption diminish their deliciousness.

It’s raining now, and I can hear the slick sounds of tires on the wet road. I didn’t do the best job of cooking this week, but tomorrow begins a new week: one that will be filled, I hope, with polenta and fresh herbs and sandwiches on seed-crusted bread. And coffee: lots of coffee, brewed strong and evened out with almond milk.


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