Brunch with Julie A. at Border Café up on Route One, before we went to see The Fighter. My usual -- a tumbler of their orange soda (not diet -- shame, shame) and Gulf Coast seafood enchilada, with black beans instead of jambalaya, and a scoop each of sour cream and guacamole. Toxic, savory, creamy, delicious. Recognizing my folly halfway through the meal, I pulled up short, and set aside a little less than half of the plate to take-away. That, later, was dinner, reheated, with Jenna on the couch. Also three pastelitos with a sweet cilantro dipping sauce -- Julie was on the prowl for an appetizer. Following her lead, I also ordered and emptied a Corona light.
In the car on the way to the cinema, Julie shared her stash: a baggie of cake balls, leftover from a party the night before whose culinary theme had been just that: balls. Red velvet cake from a box mix, shaped into truffle-sized spheres and rolled in icing and candy sugar. Crazy good. I had maybe five.
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