We treat the words "no intermission" like most people treat the words "don't eat for the next 12 hours": as an excuse to fuel up. So, prior to a performance of An Iliad (more on that wonderfulness later), we stopped into the Dessert Club. Up first, a "situation dark" cookie. Notice the pretzels and caramel-coated popcorn; what you can't see are hundreds of peanut butter chips buried in the dark. Then we tried a nutella nutbomb cupcake, topped with whipped chocoloate and a cute little hazelnut, but sadly lacking enough nutella filling on the inside. What do we mean by "enough"? Well, we take the word bomb seriosuly, so we wanted a flavor explosion! Emphasis most definitely ours.
Then we got serious with the signature coconut marshmallow, which was like eating a fluffy white duvet, a really fancy duvet from a luxury hotel that has pillow menus and free stuff in the mini bar, where the staff calls you by name and leaves you little chocolates and treats around your room, and which offers the kind of bedding you'd like to eat, if such a thing were advisable. In other words, pretty good. And, lastly, the sloppy dough, in which two halves of a cinnamon sugar-inflected donut lightly cradle a squirt of Boston cream pie filling. This version solves the issue of extremity that so often plagues filled donuts: they're often too soggy, or too dry. Not so here, as the dessert is composed separately, allowing for airiness, warmth, pleasantly gritty sugariness. Yes, we've given this some thought. Yes, the sloppy dough is worth such neuron use.