So I've developed a bad habit recently: eating in bed. This goes against all of my beliefs about eating being a social ritual and my hypocritical approach to table etiquette... but sometimes, when you've got the bed to yourself and the 2nd season of Thirty Rock, eating (and sometimes drinking) in bed seems like the best idea ever.
My favorite restaurant in town, The Blackbird Kitchen, just started their new cafe hours. The picture above was posted on their facebook account (copyright infringement?) and I found myself day dreaming about the magic of butter. When my beau brought me home a fresh, flaky croissant after my loooong Saturday morning nanny session with a sick little lady, it was on. Even though I had a plate, things got messy quick. Tiny buttery flakes were EVERYWHERE and even merited a shirt change. I was almost embarrassed about the speed of my consumption (almost). And those new sheets from Santa? Showered with pastry.
Worth it? Absolutely. Motivation to sweet and mop on a Sunday? Possibly.