This week, we surrender to semi-sweet temptation and yearn for a favorite dessert. We also welcome Guest Gulletier Rubyn Wasserman to the table.

Chip Tease
by Kitty
It was Easter Sunday and I had no plans until later that afternoon. I decided I'd set out on a solo jaunt to fetch myself a morning nosh. A friend had recently made a bold claim that Whisk Me Away Bakehouse has the best breakfast sandwiches in the city. I hopped in the Tiguan and headed downtown to investigate for myself. I ordered a bacon, egg, and cheese with a hash brown on a homemade english muffin, and four jumbo salted chocolate chip cookies to share with my family after holiday ham.
I emerged from the bakery with a choice—drive twenty minutes home before digging into my BEC, or chow down in the parking lot across from a bright teal1 building that was home to a strip club. You bet I busted that baby open in the driver’s seat. The American cheese was more molten than melted, and I scorched my mouth upon first bites. I couldn’t let a singed palate ruin this peaceful moment of solitude before heading home to prepare charcuterie for Christ. “Better taste test a cookie,” I thought.
It was firm but chewy and contained various-sized chocolate chunks. During a few bites, I thought I detected the presence of toffee, but it could have been bits of caramelized sugar. It was hard to concentrate on the bake at hand under the gaze of a pair of disembodied eyes painted on the Club Fantasies marquee. The piercing baby blues with sharply arched brows and sultry lashes judged me as I indulged in desserts meant for sharing. What tasted like a slight tinge of guilt quickly revealed itself to be the perfectly flaky sea salt topping. There was no denying their it factor.
Absolving myself of this small sin, I polished off the cookie and brushed any residual crumbs from my lap to the floor. I boxed up the remaining three, good as new, and hit the highway feeling satisfied. After all, only me, the barista, and the eyes of Club Fantasies knew that I’d originally walked out of the bakehouse with four.
The Verdict: I’ll see you outside the club for Christmas croissants.
Name Drops: Whisk Me Away
She Came For Dessert
by Rubyn Wasserman2
Have you ever been to a place and immediately felt at home? The first time I went to NYC's Red Cat (may its memory be a blessing), I knew that, had I grown up in New York, this would have been my family's neighborhood spot.
The lighting at Red Cat was warm and inviting, with glowing crimson lamps. The staff was friendly and witty. The bar was long but intimate, with cubbies filled with all the ingredients needed to make your favorite cocktail. Tables were set with white linens and wooden chairs, a neutral palette for any kind of evening you were looking to have. The matchbooks, placed by the door, showcased Red Cat and its phone number in a black stately serif on a scarlet background. Upon leaving, I’d grab one and shyly smile towards whoever saw me put it in my pocket.
The food was tasty, but there was one menu item - the pistachio semifreddo - that I still daydream about. Lean in and allow me to describe this sexy little delight: a half sphere of pistachio ice cream dotted with pistachio nuts sat lounging atop a soft, thin, circular, chocolate brownie. This was served with a side of hot dark chocolate sauce that you could slowly pour out of its metal bell creamer and watch glide over the voluptuous curves of the ice cream as it shined and oozed over the creamy and crunchy mound, partially hardening as it touched the frosty bits. I think it was the first time I used the word orgasmic to describe a dessert. It was a masterpiece. It had all the right textures to raise eyebrows and silence the table as the umami flavors ping-ponged in our mouths until, upon swallowing, we locked eyes, squealed in delight, and dove in for more.
The Verdict: You’ll have what she’s having.
Name Drops: The Red Cat
A special thank you to this week’s illustrator, Heedayah Lockman3 ! See more of her work here.
If you’d like to be a Guest Gulletier or illustrator, drop us a note at putitinthegullet@gmail.com
A hue that glowed brighter than 90s home aquarium gravel.
Rubyn Wasserman is a fan of pigeons, senior citizens, neon, food, traveling, music, children's books, art, film, and dancing in grocery stores. She splits her time between St. Louis and New York while working for an NGO and occasionally writing her funtivities newsletter.
Heedayah Lockman is a freelance illustrator based in Glasgow. She loves to capture playful vibes in illustrating food, female figures and still life. She works primarily on editorials and publications. In her spare time, Heedayah loves going to cafes, sketching (and endlessly planning her next passion projects), playing with her Switch, or watching horror movies.