This locavore has a confession to make.
I can’t really talk about it, so pictures will have to suffice:
I got in the car. . .
Wearing these. . .
And drove here. . .
To pick up this. . .
Just because dessert is made at my “neighborhood bar and grill” does not mean it’s local. I am so sorry. To redeem myself, here’s proof that I couldn’t even finish it all. . .
I jumped off the locavore bandwagon and I regret it. Can you ever forgive me?
Why don’t we ALL ‘fess up? Where do you go when a craving hits? (And are pajama pants involved?)