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You know that stereotype that Americans are all about size, gluttony and greed? The soaring obesity rates, the super-size-me culture, the fascination with all things fast food, the ginormous meal portions compared to... oh, just about anywhere else in the world; and on a less literal scale, the over-inflated masculine egos and correspondingly hyper-sexualized expectations for females, the insatiable appetite for fuel (though Bush has the gall to suggest that emerging markets cut down on their fuel consumption to curb rising crude oil prices, it is in fact the US that eats up more than a quarter of the world's energy consumption each year. This isn't fast food... we're talking about a NON-RENEWABLE resource), the Darwinist capitalist mentality that drives Wall St. and arguably (obviously I'm arguing the case for, if you care to speak for the other side, please contact me and we will have words) caused the summer-07 subprime meltdown and subsequent and current worldwide economic recession through which we have the misfortune to live today?
I found the culinary embodiment of this stereotype, ironically enough, in mini-mini-cupcakes. Yes people, this delicious selection of cupcakes may look like regular cupcakes, but they are, in fact, not even mini-cupcakes, but MINI-MINI-CUPCAKES. Which means that the regular cupcakes were about half the size of my face, and the mini-cupcakes were the size of my cheek. And one of these "tiny" little guys filled up my whole mouth (wait, what, it's more polite not to stuff one's face and instead take small bites?!). And I have a BIG mouth.

Oh America, land of the free and of the giant cupcakes. Everything that is associated with you is apparently larger than life, right down to cupcakes, which, by definition, are supposed to be small. Yet although I may point out your flaws, the truth is I don't care about your negative stereotypes. Because although I cannot even finish one of your regular cupcakes in one sitting and thus had to opt for the selection of mini-mini-cakes, I love that that super-large size option is even available (choice = freedom and freedom = THE ideal). For America, I too am a secretly greedy fast-food-loving capitalist (okay I know I have a blog that is all about food but my point is that it is a secret to everyone who DOESN'T read this blog) who prizes choice and freedom in the give-me-liberty-and-giant-cupcakes-or-give-me-death political vein.
The point of this post was to highlight that there is such a thing as mini-mini-cupcakes. In retrospect, the more relevant point and moral of this post seems to be that I will forgive anyone almost any fault if I am fed cupcakes.
After Serendipity 3 I suffered cheesecake dreams, which were also interspersed with dreams featuring other foods, the most notable and heartrending of which were my McDonalds dreams in which I'd order a double cheeseburger McValue meal only to WAKE UP the moment I sat down and put the burger to my lips (I tend to speak in hyperbole, but I had this dream three times in a ROW, no joke; and woke up highly pissed off and hungry each time).
As a result I could not stop talking about cheesecake, and in an effort to shut me up and save his sanity, Danny took me to the place that boasts the best cheesecake in New York. While this proclamation is not quite on the same level as the Italian restaurant that boasts having "the best cannolis on planet Earth" (so Rest of Universe, if you want to compete cannoli-wise, game on: please contact the cannoli place in Little Italy), it was still pretty cocky.
Each bite was like being slapped in the face, albeit gently, with cream, cheese and calories. I am undecided on whether this is an insult or a compliment because I am undecided on whether a cake should make you feel so guilty when you eat it that you can't enjoy it properly. Because that also means it's tempting and forbidden, which increases its desirability. But this cheesecake was not just fat-inducing, it even physically looks Rubenesque.
Case and point:
I have wanted to eat at this restaurant ever since I saw it in the movie Serendipity, which was a truly shiteous product of filmmaking, but the dessert scene during which John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale share a chocolate ice cream volcano and fall in love was inspiring and simultaneously spoke to my heart and stomach (not an easy feat).
INGREDIENTS:
A pretty menu (extra points for the swirly illustrations and creative food names: they have a chicken dish called A La Garden of Allah. Piqued my interest, but I decided it was mildly blasphemous and also I was too full)

... Doled out in massive proportions (the aforementioned menu was approximately 75% of my formidable 5 foot height span... which means it was... umm... okay you can do the math)

One Ice Cream Crepe (Danny's), which was not only swimming in whipped cream and fruit sauce but somehow evoked the impression of doing so while enjoying a cold lemonade on a blistering and cloudless summer day

One Strawberry Fields Sundae (mine), a gargantuan concoction of strawberries, strawberry ice cream, cheesecake, and whipped cream, which, with the exception of the strawberry ice cream, is a combination of some of my most favourite things in the world; topped with a dash of lyrical Beatle-esque inspiration in the sundae name

Eat for an hour (cappucino optional), promptly pass out upon finding nearest available bed, and you too will dream of strawberries tap dancing on cheesecake the whole night.