Instead of getting to my desk early to blog, I biked a mile and a half out of my way to the Biscuit Bakery to eat a vegan chocolate muffin. Today’s blog post harks back to the early days of blogging, when everyone knew that “blog” was short for “web log,” you’d often learn what the writer ate for breakfast, and we weren’t so worried about blogs as vehicles for inbound marketing.
The chocolate muffins at the Biscuit are not at all cakey or crumbly, but chewy and substantial. You don’t get the jitters a half hour after eating them the way you do with some muffins that are all sugar with not enough fat. The top crust is slightly crisped, kissed with confectioner’s sugar, but not so much you get it on your shirt. The chocolate chips you find about every other bite are still semi-liquid even when the muffins have cooled to room temperature. Sometimes you get a touch of bitterness on your tongue from too much baking soda (one of the pitfalls of vegan baking), but otherwise the muffins are perfect. With zero cholesterol and a zillion calories, they are the perfect treat for someone like me, teetering on the edge of having to take one of those awful anti-cholesterol potions with side effects like lack of desire and suicide.
They used to hawk these puppies at the Diesel, but now the occasion of barricading myself with a novel, a cup of coffee, my reading glasses, and a chocolate muffin for 30 minutes of “me” time has been relocated. I have been missing these muffins for almost a year. We all get a bit emotional about food and coffee . . . my friends will tell you that I still wax way too eloquent (that’s a fancy way of saying “talk too much”) about the Coffee Connection, George Howell’s ground-breaking gourmet coffee shop that originated in Harvard Square but had spawned babies all over the metro Boston area before Starbucks killed, er, bought the chain. Other places that did not need to disappear include the Harvard Donut Shop, Central Square’s bakery that mysteriously served a bewildering variety of enormous fluffy muffins but no donuts . . . and the Someday Cafe, the Davis Square bistro founded by three young Seattle carpet-baggers who sold their place to the guy from Toscanini’s who then lost his lease with Mel Fraiman (better known as the landlord who poured heart and soul into the renovation of the Somerville Theatre) because he simply forgot to sign the paperwork . . . and for months afterwards petitions were circulating to “save the Someday” . . . to no avail . . .
Some of these places are so long gone that you can’t hardly find them on Google, but I still miss them.
As my friend Charlene St. Jean would say on one of her Facebook posts designed to engage her audience . . .
What do YOU miss?