Here in New York spring has really sprung, and it’s making a grand entrance indeed. My prettiest dresses are sailing out of the closet; bright pastels are crowding the streets; heck, I even shaved my legs. (This activity usually lasts until mid-June, at which point I decide the patriarchy needs to get over itself and any lover scared off by a little fur won’t last long with me anyway.) The big news is that iced coffee is back on the menu. Since I quit sweets, this is the closest I ever get to a real dessert: ice, espresso, and half and half. It’s like an emotionally evolved egg cream. If I’m feeling really decadent, I take the situation a step further: Lemon or orange seltzer with iced coffee, a dash of cream, and a lot of ice. Delicious and disgusting, just like the best foods of our childhood.
Here in New York spring has really sprung, and it’s making a grand entrance indeed. My prettiest dresses are sailing out of the closet; bright pastels are crowding the streets; heck, I even shaved my legs. (This activity usually lasts until mid-June, at which point I decide the patriarchy needs to get over itself and any lover scared off by a little fur won’t last long with me anyway.) The big news is that iced coffee is back on the menu. Since I quit sweets, this is the closest I ever get to a real dessert: ice, espresso, and half and half. It’s like an emotionally evolved egg cream. If I’m feeling really decadent, I take the situation a step further: Lemon or orange seltzer with iced coffee, a dash of cream, and a lot of ice. Delicious and disgusting, just like the best foods of our childhood.