The summer of ice cream just got big and gay

This has been the summer of ice cream for me. As a friend recently pointed out (in an observational way, not a judgmental one, in case you were wondering) I’ve been eating lots of it.

The Salty Pimp from the Big Gay Ice Cream truck

Maybe it’s because my boyfriend’s been flaneuring around Europe without me (flaneur, for the record, is a noun, not a verb, but I use it as both. My blog, my rules.) and I’ve been emotionally eating in his absence. Or maybe it’s because what the hell else should I do during a beachless, vacationless summer in the city? Ice cream is IT.

Yesterday I even waited in line for it. A pretty long line too, about 35 minutes total, spent between a pack of NYU freshmen and a couple of whiny women straight from a midtown office. So why would I deal with that when there are somewhere around 5 billion other places to get ice cream in this city?

Cause it was from the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck! I’ve been tracking the truck (which constantly changes location) for a few weeks now, missing it because of conflicting work schedules, being out of town (the truck, not me) and friends who didn’t want to wait in line for ice cream. But everything fell into place yesterday and I was able to get my ice cream, in all its delicious, big, gay glory! Continue reading


False advertising

Dulce de leche cupcake

I didn’t think this day would come, but here it is: I have something negative (well kind of) to say about a cupcake.

Yesterday was stressful. Deadlines were piling up, I had interviews to do, stories to write, personal issues to deal with, and to really kick everything up a notch, I’m in the middle of moving to a new apartment. (If you live in New York, you know what an immense, flaming pain in the arse this is.) So as I tried to work my way through everything, I realized I needed coffee to give me a much-needed boost, but since the office machine only had decaff (an entirely pointless drink) I decided to get some fresh air and a cup of joe elsewhere. Once I was outside though, I thought, well hell, why don’t I just cut across Bryant Park and mosey on over to Crumbs where I can get a cupcake to go with my coffee.

So I did, and as my eyes bounced around cookie-crumb covered, sprinkle crusted, coconut flake topped cupcakes, they finally landed on the dulce de leche cupcake. Minutes later, cupcake and coffee in hand, I hurriedly made my way back through the park and up to the office.

Where's the dulce de leche??

I pulled the behemoth treat out of its paper bag. It was a fat chocolate cupcake topped with a cream cheese type frosting, and then crisscrossed with chocolate and dulce de leche drizzles.  As a kid in Miami, I developed a serious love for this sticky caramel-like sweet. Even now, my mom sends me packages with snack-size cups of dulce de leche. When I saw the cupcake, I imagined the inside would be oozing with it, each bite a sticky sweet bit of encouragement to keep truckin.’

Yet when I cut the cupcake in half (I was trying to minimize the mess at my desk) there was no dulce de leche to be found. Instead, the chocolate cupcake had a cream cheese frosting core, the same as the icing on top. Now, don’t get me wrong, it was still delicious, and of course I polished it off in a few big chomps, but why call it a dulce de leche cupcake if the only dulce de leche  is a couple of thin drizzles on top? Had I known this, I would’ve bought a different cupcake! There were so many others I thought about getting, yet what sold me on this was one was the promise of dulce de leche.

Being April 1st, I thought it might have been an April Fool’s Day joke, but then that’s not even funny! ::Sigh:: You let me down this time, Crumbs.