The thing about ganache

The other day after having a major craving for chocolate, I decided to try out a pastry shop in the neighborhood. It had been a long, rainy day and I thought it would be a nice pick-me-up.

As I purused the glass window full of yummy pastry goodness, I spotted what looked to be a dark chocolate turtle tart. It just said 'turtle tart' on the card so I asked the man working there if it was dark chocolate or milk chocolate. I didn't think my question was that out of the ordinary, but the man looked at me as if I had just insulted him, the store and his unborn child.

"Milk or dark chocolate?" he repeated.

"Yeah," I giggled uncomfortably, thinking he was making an awkward joke.

"It's ganache." With that it became very evident that he was very serious and that I might as well asked for a Hershey's bar.

"Ok. Ganache. I'll take one of those," I smiled uncomfortably and waited while he pulled my treat.

"There's no such thing as milk chocolate or dark chocolate," he muttered as he packed up the tart. Then he looked right at me and added in his snarkiest voice yet, "someone in Buffalo needs to be educated."

My shock completely shut down my comeback faculties. I replayed what he had just said over in my head, hoping the guy was joking, but there was no turning back.

The man went to ring up my credit card. I turned to my boyfriend, who was only half paying attention to this exchange, and said to him in Spanish, "if the guy wants to educate me, maybe he doesn't have to be such a jerk about it."

I got my tart and got the hell out of there, but not before the snarky clerk got in the last word yet, a mocking and horribly pronounced "hasta luego."

Don't stand between a girl and her chocolate. It's all chocolate. And don't be a snob, I'm the customer. I know what ganache is. I know what milk and dark chocolate are. And believe me, honey, they exist.

I wanted to like you Dolci Bakery on Elmwood, I really did. But that guy was such a schmuck, I vow to never go back and to tell everyone I know how rude the service was.

The thing about studies

Road ragers: apply here.
That's what the ad should have said.

I saw one of those adverts for a study at a local university, no scary trial medicines involved, just driving. How bad can that be? They give you cash for driving. Right? Sounds good.

The woman at the research institute said I had to answer some preliminary questions to qualify for the study itself. After a few minorly invasive questions about my health history and a brief explanation about the nature of the study, the questions started. Actual questions like this:

"Do you ever purposely try to run other drivers off the road?"

From a researcher's perspective, this might be useful knowledge, but from a sheer ethical and moral standpoint, don't you want to do something if someone answers "all the time" or even "sometimes?"

Other questions included:
"How often do you try to get the best of other drivers?"
"How often do you overtake other drivers while passing them in the wrong lane?"
"How often do you get into arguments with other drivers?"
"How often do you swear at other drivers?"

I guess I'm way too mild a driver. I said 'never' so often, by the end I was desperately hoping they were looking for well-adjusted, mild-tempered drivers. Not so.

So. If you often want to "cut off another driver to get even" or "chase another driver," I've got the perfect study for you.

I just hope you don't live in my town.

The thing about pie

Pie Eating Contests have always been one of those things I see on television and watch with a mixture of horror and awe. Similar to a presidential debate or Nathan's Hotdog Eating Contest, perhaps one ponders the idea of participating, but quickly brushes off the idea to consider more likely, tasteful pursuits.

That was my official stance on the country fair pastime, that is, until Saturday.

I spent the morning at The Great Pumpkin Farm, reporting on the 26th Annual World Pumpkin Weigh-Off. More on that later.

The Great Pumpkin Farm in Clarence turns out to be the epitome of all things autumn related. It combines a 4-H fair, an amusement park and excessive pumpkin-themed events to create an All-American Saturday.

I know you're wondering of what I think an All-American Saturday consists:

• Ponies and livestock: check
• Ferris wheel: check
• Overpriced fried food: check
• Candied Apples: check
• Food-eating competitions: check

I stumbled upon the latter, a Pumpkin Pie Eating Contest, while making my way to the corn maze. I told my friends I just wanted to see if it was as interesting in real life as on TV.

I would like to blame it on not having eaten lunch yet, because somehow the slices being set in front of contestants started to look more and more appealing. The ladies passing out the pie sensed my weakness.

"Come on! Try it! If you only eat two pieces of pie, no big deal! It's free!"

This was really all I needed to hear. Pie + Free in the same sentence. Never mind she rattled off the short list of rules quickly thereafter: No hands. Put them behind the back for good measure.

I was all in. Me, and about 20 other folks willing to sacrifice their dignity for some free pumpkin pie.

My approach was not competitive in the least. Leisurely pie eating (without looking like I was just in it for the free pie) we'll call it. I downed 4 pieces in 5 minutes. Not too shabby. The winners knocked out 11 and 10 pieces respectively. Somewhat cruelly, they were forced to do "eat-offs" after ties emerged.

No pie eating contest is complete without pictures........

What an informal eating contest looks like before the eating.

Mhmm. Pie.

The third place winner


The eat off for first and second place

The eat-off for first and second place

The winner proves it.