The only thing better than a cookie is cookie dough cookie sandwich.

I just blew your mind.

A cookie dough cookie sandwich. That’s cookie dough sandwiched between two cookies.

I had one last week thanks to the Dessert Doctor. He brought some that he made with his own two hands and some sugar. And let me tell you that it blew my mind.

In fact, just remembering that crunchy, mushy mix was enough to make me run around the building I’m in search of any kind of cookie. And what I found is only doing an okay job of satisfying the need for homebaked goods.

Because no matter what, a pre-packaged cookie will never ever compare to something from someone’s house. And then when that cookie is accompanying it’s own pre-baked dough (sans eggs, the Dessert Doctor said, so you don’t die of whatever), it’s a better match than salt with pepper.

The only way you can make something more glutinous and delicious than a cookie dough cookie sandwich is by incorporating one with a cheesecake or pie. But that’s borderline obscene, even for food porn. A dessert like that might only be available in Japan or Germany. And in a back alley, no less.

 

A Tasty Little Announcement

Hello, devoted readers.

We have an exciting little announcement. My husband, our very own King of Awesome, has a new job.

He’s working for Lakewood Brewing Company, Dallas’ third official brewery (although they’re physically located in Garland about a mile from Dallas … blame zoning laws).

Anyway, it’s one of the reasons I haven’t been writing much lately. And no, not because I’m constantly drinking. Although, maybe my intake has increased.

That isn’t to say I’m working at Lakewood, either. Because I’m not. I’m just a Beer Wife (which would be an excellent reality show, by the way).

Regardless, this is very cool because working at a brewery is one of those dream jobs that many people would love to have, but few actually get. Plus, Lakewood beer is awesome. And they’re set to start brewing very very soon, so maybe you too (if you’re local) will get a chance to try their stuff in the near future.

Anyway, congratulations to my king, my love, my super-sudsy hubsy.

Be expecting even more beer promoting.

Dallas Trader Joe’s Updates

Alas, Trader Joe’s isn’t coming to the Lake Highlands Town Center, which we all knew. But they’re still going to be very very close.

The northwest corner of Walnut Hill and 75 is going to be TJ Home #2 for Dallas. That’s the corner that currently has nothing but 42 acres of grass (42 acres? Really?). Rumor has it the new location will open sometime in 2013.

And like Dallas is apt to do, they’re creating another shopping center there. Allegedly, of course.

Dallas’ first location is going to be on Lower Greenville where the Arcadia Theatre used to be. You know, before the fire.

And rumor has it that the Metroplex’s first Trader Joe’s is already open in Fort Worth. And by “rumor,” I mean it opened on June 15, 2012. Hmm, maybe I’ll be taking a trip to Cowtown sometime soon. It’s time to stock up on chocolate covered edamame and proprietary snack foods.

Oh, and fucking Plano is getting a Trader Joe’s later this summer. Fucking Plano.

Adam Richman, we love you like we love pie.

And we really love pie.

 

No one will warn you about food peer pressure, except me.

When you’re in elementary school, your teachers and the principal will talk to you about a little thing called peer pressure.

It’s when your friends and buddies will try to get you to drink alcohol (gasp!), or smoke cigarettes (double gasp!), or try drugs (faints!).

Peer pressure sucks and it’s very very hard to rise above. Especially when you’re young. Hell, it’s difficult now.

That’s right. Peer pressure never really goes away.

But as a could-I-stab-it-to-death-a-tarian, I’ve experienced a whole other level of peer pressure. The pressure to eat meat against my will.

Since I stopped chowing down on mammals when I was 12 (yeah, 12), my pubescent and teenaged years will filled with snotty brats shoving burgers and ham sandwiches in my face. They’d munch on hotdogs proclaiming, “Oh, this dead pig is SO GOOD!” And then offer me a bite just to watch me squirm.

They thought they were so clever. They thought they were the first person to ever make fun of my diet. They thought they had a career in standup? I don’t know what they thought. Trying to get people to eat or drink stuff they don’t like never made sense to me.

I never gave in. And I won’t, because this shit STILL HAPPENS.

I still have a few friends and family members who can’t fight their compulsion to offer me meatballs or fried chicken knowing damn well I don’t eat it. Like I’m going to toss 17 years of standing my ground down the disposal. In front of everyone.

“It’s good. You’d like it.”

“Are you suuuuure?”

“Well, there’s an extra piece up here if you decide to change your mind.”

Fuck you, I’m not changing my mind. I don’t want to give you the bloody satisfaction of popping my carnivorous cherry.

Was that too graphic? Fuck you if you think so. It’s no worse then trying to get me to eat beef jerky or drink bacon vodka.

Food peer pressure sucks calf fries.

If I had 30 days left to live, what would I do?

There’s a marquee near my house that asks what you’d do if you only had a month left to live.

And I’ve already written a piece about all the stuff I’d do that I was afraid to do because of reputation, disease, or unpredictable mortality. But after finishing I realized I forgot to mention all of the crap I’d eat.

That’s what Yummy Awesome is for!

If it were guaranteed that my heart would give out in a month, that I was only going to be on this planet for another 30 days, I would go on an eating binge.

After all, it isn’t like gorging on pies and candy would kill me. That would happen anyway.

So I’d eat pie for breakfast, and not just a slice. I’d devour a whole fucking pie for breakfast. Then I’d probably have one for lunch, too. I might fry one for dinner.

I’d get a cotton candy machine and just stuff fluff into my mouth for another day.

Fuck diabetes. It wouldn’t have time to kill me because my clock would already be ticking.

I’d eat cases of Lays Stax chips. And I’d go nuts with bread. Hell, I’d buy the grocery store’s entire stock of French baguettes and dine on those all damn day long.

All of the artificial, preservative-laden, processed crap that I try to stay away from would become my new staple. Who needs nutrients when you’ll be nothing in a month?

If I even bothered to look at a nutritional label, I’d laugh because it wouldn’t matter. Saturated, unsaturated. It’d all be the same. And it’d all be delicious.

I’d fry everything. Well, almost everything. But imagine fried brie. Or fried grapes. No, fuck that. Grapes are healthy. I don’t want them.

As much as I like beer, I’d probably give it up for high fructose syrup drinks. I might only drink soda from here ’til the end. Or those really fattening lattes as Starbucks that I see people getting all the time.

Imagine getting to eat whatever you want without consequence. Well, at least the consequence of long-term bad health. I imagine I’d have more than a few cases of diarrhea before the end. There’s no way my system won’t freak out a bit if it’s reintroduced to Little Debbie after a decade.

Oh man, if I had only a month to live, I wouldn’t go on some charitable pilgrimage to better the world. I’d just try to eat most of the planet.

The Best Sandwich in the World. Yeah, I went there.

Let’s talk about this fucking sandwich, because it’s long overdue that I tell you about it.

Number 10 THE VEGETARIAN from Urban Eatz. Now many places have sandwiches with the same name, but I can tell you right now they are inferior. Urban Eatz’s sandwich is warm and stuffed with roasted red peppers, creamy avocado, grilled zucchini (I’m drooling, FYI), and topped with the best pesto cream cheese concoction every created.

Then provolone cheese and tomatoes are thrown in, too. And it’s all bookended with toasted ciabatta bread and held together with one of those frilly toothpicks.

Every few months, we order Urban Eatz on set. And I’ve always asked for the Vegetarian, and I can’t deviate.

No joke, when I  know we’re having Urban Eatz for lunch, I wake up happier than normal. I actually get out of bed and go, “Oh! I get my vegetarian sandwich today! Hell yeah.” Today, I got stuck behind a train and was late. And I didn’t fucking care because that sandwich was in my near future.

My out-in-the-open enthusiasm for the sandwich has made others curious. So they started ordering it. And now tons of my meat-eating co-workers now dine on this delicious dish because IT’S THE BEST FUCKING SANDWICH IN THE WORLD.

Is it the bread? Is it the pesto? Is it gypsy magic? I have no idea and I don’t care. I just want another one of those sandwiches.

Sorry I didn’t post a photo. I couldn’t wait a moment longer before devouring it.

***

P.S. The Dessert Doctor is also a huge fan of Urban Eatz. He’s blogged about their delectable cookies before.