The Best Husband Ever and I have a quasi-tradition of enjoying sweet treats from a local bakery together on Saturday mornings. This habit began over the summer as part of our weekly forays to the farmer's market. Once the market closed for the season, though, I didn't want to leave our treat day behind. So we continued, now sharing our pastries over a game of Scrabble or the morning paper, or both.
The same rang true this past Saturday. We visited Break Espresso, a coffee shop/bakery (where I used to work, incidentally) that makes some of the best baked goods in town. The Best Husband Ever got his usual, a cinnamon roll, while I branched out and tried a piece of their berry coffee cake.
The coffee cake was delicious. Moist and flavorful without being overwhelmingly sweet or sugary, as many of their pastries are, I thought this cake struck just the right balance between indulgence and nutrition. My favorite aspect of it was the cake's texture. The bulk of the cake was light and not at all dry, contrasting with a thin crowning crust of cinnamon streusel.
I love struesel and crumble toppings. My favorite apple pie, also made by the bakers at Break Espresso, has one. The extra burst of sweetness paired with its subtle and unique crunch is so satisfying to me. There's just one problem -- I wish it would stay on the cake! With every dive of my fork into the coffee cake, it seemed the the streusel topping would rain down to the plate, wasted. Not truly wasted, of course, because I made sure to clean up the fallen crumbles quite thoroughly. But, as tasty as streusel is, I also find it maddening to eat because of how it drops right off whatever its been cooked onto. Am I being overly perfectionist? Probably. But the fact remains -- crumbly toppings drive me wild with taste bud pleasure as well as with OCD frustration.
Do you have any silly food or eating predilections like this? For example, do you not like certain foods to mingle on your plate, or do you eat certain types of dishes in a specific order or method. Please tell me that I'm not alone in my compulsive streusel-ingesting irritations! I can't be alone in my ludicrosity, right? Er, right . . . ?