This week, something smooth and creamy from next door, and Lady Delish intervenes at the supermarket. We also welcome Guest Gulletier Sarah Palumbo to the table.
An Eggceptional Friend
by Sarah Palumbo1
For most of my adult life, I haven’t been blessed in the “cool neighbors” department. I suppose I never made much effort to meet the people living around me until I moved to Valley Ave—a five-house, dead-end street where there’s never a dull moment. There are the three rambunctious boys two houses down who stop my car before I can pull into my driveway to tell me what cool invention was discovered that day. There’s the crotchety neighbor one street over who never hesitates to call the police on our dogs for no reason. Then there’s our proximity to the airport. The planes are so low and loud that when any of us are outside talking, we have to yell over the jet engines. The one benefit is that noise has given the neighborhood a shared annoyance. What does my residence have to do with food, you ask? Darlene, my 62-year-old neighbor, and new best friend.
Darlene and I became close when I dropped by her house to say hello after a particularly stressful day. I ended up spilling my guts and crying while Darlene lent a patient, understanding ear. Cut to us now taking forty-five-minute walks almost every day. Although there’s a lot of non-nutrition talk, we spend a fair amount of time telling each other how much weight we’d like to drop, among other fitness goals. Typically, by our next stroll, we report that we had “one less bite of cake” or “one less drink than we normally would have,” and so on. However, one treat is exempt from our “one-less” list. Gardners Peanut Butter Meltaway Eggs. Darlene’s husband had introduced them to her, and she would often mention how fucking good they were. One day, she came home with a car full of groceries and surprised me with my very own box. Easter had come early, and I was SALIVATING. I was so excited that I didn’t even offer to lend a hand with those bags and ran home to dig in.
As I watched her struggle to carry her reusable totes from my window, I wasted no time tearing open that box and savoring an egg. They were just as delicious as Darlene had described. The chocolate-to-peanut butter ratio—incredible. The creaminess—undeniable. I rapid-fire blew through five eggs before stopping myself to send Darlene a text, “OMG I’ve already eaten three! SO GOOD!” Per our fitness goals, three sounded better than the smooth, peanut-buttery truth. I later learned that Darlene specially orders these chocolates from Pennsylvania, and I was touched she thought to add an extra to her cart for me. I’ve now tasted greatness and turn my nose up at Reese’s when I pass them in the candy aisle.
Kitty and I recently had a craft date and made friendship bracelets, but I'd be lying if I said she was the one I wanted to make a bracelet for. After all, Kitty's not the one who gifted me with the Meltaway experience. Even without a bracelet, Darlene safely remains numero uno...for now.
The Verdict: #didwejustbecomebestfriends?
Name drops: Gardners Original Peanut Butter Meltaway® Eggs
An Element of Surprise
by Greg
Tuesday is my least favorite day of the week. Where I live upstate, the grocery store is usually the only thing open after the weekenders hustle back to the city. Tuesdays are made especially bleak during the cruel stretch of winter from mid-February to April. The grey skies roll in, the temperature plummets, and my seasonal depression erupts. I felt particularly low after being stuck inside after a three-day pelting of snow and sleet, and a drive to the supermarket felt like my best chance at producing a squirt of serotonin. After gathering some Clorox wipes and granola, I clocked a familiar silhouette in the checkout line. It was my lovely neighbor Annie, who has some of the best hair and nonverbal communication I’ve encountered. Her knowing smile and eyes, constantly on the prowl for mischief, delight me.
After declaring my glum mood, Annie had the brilliant suggestion to fuck cooking dinner and, instead, pick up something tasty from the town food truck. How did I always forget that the food truck was an option? It was the only other saving grace in town that serves up surprisingly fresh options. With Annie’s new plan, I felt a surge of excitement like when a friend invited you to sleep over in middle school. We picked up our order and returned to her house for a zesty spread of chicken tacos and fries. After dinner, Annie disappeared into the kitchen while I gossiped and drank tea with her mother, Mary. Minutes later, Annie plunked down a batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. The feeling of unexpectedly receiving one of your favorite treats in a slump of depression AND on a Tuesday was exhilarating.
One bite in, I could tell there was something different about these puppies. There was something…extra in the mix. With a mouth full of molten cookie, I looked at Annie, bewildered. She stared into my eyes and mouthed, “Tahini.”
Back when Instagram was fun (was it ever, though?), I ran a chocolate chip cookie account. My goal was to try and review as many of New York’s chocochip offerings as I could handle. Needless to say, I’ve sampled a lot of recipes, and it’s hard to throw me a cookie curveball. Every so often, you meet a cookie that does put out and Annie’s bake was giving me the old razzle-dazzle. I’ve seen an uptick in cafes adding tahini chocolate chip cookies to their menus, and now, I understand. The tahini imbued the cookie with a special quality, a nutty and savory shimmer that played exceptionally well with the dark chocolate.
Annie told me she had made a habit of keeping cookie dough balls on standby in her freezer, an effective and efficient reprieve from the winter doldrums. Leave it to a little tahini and some neighborly love to snap me out of the seasonal sads.
Name drops: NYT Cooking Salted Tahini Chocolate Chip Cookies
A special thank you to this week’s illustrator, Sanika Phawde2! See their work here.
If you’d like to be a Guest Gulletier or illustrator, drop us a note at putitinthegullet@gmail.com
Sarah Palumbo is an underpaid social worker out of Providence, Rhode Island. She has an unhealthy addiction to lint-rolling everything and taking in homeless dogs. Sadly, her coolest talent is curling her tongue into a three-leaf clover. She's also probably the only thirty-something who has never had an Insta, and she apologizes to all her fans for the inability to “@” or “add.”
Sanika Phawde is an educator, cartoonist, and reportage artist born and raised in India and based in Boston. Through autobiographical comics, visual essays, drawings on location, gouache paintings and illustrated interviews their work strives to capture and communicate instances of emotional connection, queer immigrant culture and conversations people have over meals.