As if the New York-esque #FOMO wasn’t strong enough, we started the morning with a typical (but just as fulfilling) Big Apple breakfast: bagels with lox, sliced red onions, capers, and cream cheese, served with a piping hot cup of French-press coffee. With smoked fish in my stomach and enough caffeine to sustain me for the day, we headed out in cloudy weather that just screamed Bon Iver.
Living in New York for a year blessed me with the convenience of having Dough five streets north of my apartment, and I haven’t really gone out of my way to get an exceptional donut, despite my constant complaining about missing their passion fruit/cocoa nib flavor. Nonetheless, The Salty Donut gave me exactly what I craved: a thick, chewy donut that wasn’t obnoxiously fried, with a glaze that wasn’t sickening or artificial. While only a pop-up shop, the little café spot had a hefty line and I ended up waiting roughly 20 minutes for my maple and bacon donut (which was absolutely worth it). The bacon on top was unreal, and deliciously so.
After taking a few photos outside a local museum – and note the outside, because we didn’t want to pay for admission – we had to drop off Lauren (my cousin/Adele buddy/fellow Lil BUB! fan) at the airport. On the way back, we picked up Thai food to-go at a restaurant in Little Havana – and yes, that’s the last place I’d expect to get Thai food as well.
Making use of the amazing Miami view and beautiful weather, we re-plated our dishes and had our Asian food outside, before Nick and I jumped on the task of redeeming our culinary failure from the night prior.
If you’ve followed along (though let’s be honest, the only people really reading this are probably my parents), you’ll recall that we attempted to make churro donuts, turned donut holes, turned baked churros. What resulted were flat, shortbread cookies that were awfully dough-y and dense.
With a motivation deep in our hearts and the intent of proving that we are compatible in the kitchen together, we decided to go for a matcha tiramisu, though we took hella shortcuts and opted to make a matcha-infused whipped cream instead of the typical zabaglione that is commonly found in tiramisu dishes.
Thing is, we underestimated both the amount of whipped cream needed and the firmness of the tiramisu, so it ended up turning into a mess of attempted plating, complete with blackberry pearls and sesame seeds.
Deep down inside, we had the right idea going, but the execution was flawed – but hey, what’s life without its set of failures anyways?