I have been friends with K and J since seventh grade and we've grown up together creating a lot of memories. We've been there through high school boyfriends, college woes, and K and I were excited to be part of J's wedding this past fall. This weekend, we planned to get together for some shopping, ceramics at Color Me Mine and dining.
K recently moved to Oakmont, PA, a quaint little town outside of Pittsburgh with charming shops and reputable eateries within walking distance to homes lined with cobblestone streets. Upon my arrival to K's apartment, we all agreed that lunch needed to be the first order of the day. We ventured to What's Cooking at Casey's, a small family-run diner featuring Italian fare with some classic American items, such as burgers and fries.
K had been dreaming of the coconut chicken salad drizzled in raspberry vinaigrette dressing for 15 years (she REALLY meant a few weeks, but K likes to embellish), so both she and J ordered that. As salad and I aren't friends, I opted for a cup of wedding soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. K and J enjoyed their salads immensely and my soup was good; however, the sandwich was a bit lackluster. I like a grilled cheese to have several cheeses and excellent bread, but Casey's was merely a slab of American between two sad slices of wheat bread. I wasn't impressed.
The day started out innocently, but upon finishing our lunches and proclaiming our inability to eat another bite, we meandered immediately to the famed Oakmont Bakery. The Oakmont Bakery has been around since 1988 and offers gourmet pastries, intricately designed cakes, fresh breads and mouth-watering doughnuts. Standing room was hard to come by, but we squeezed our ways in and each selected a cupcake. I assumed these would be snacks for later, but when I saw K grabbing a tray with plates and forks, my appetitive bounded back and I was prepared to attack the innocent baked good. I ordered a Pretty Woman, an almond cupcake filled with strawberry filling and topped with white buttercream frosting and pink ganache, then capped with a chocolate-covered strawberry. It made me want to treat it like a whore, fall in love with it, then climb its fire escape to win its strawberry-filled heart.
K's cupcake was a white chocolate and raspberry-filled beauty, while J got a dessert that was essentially a brownie on top of a cheesecake. After we all destroyed any trace of our desserts and stopped moaning at the deliciousness, we trekked to Squirrel Hill for afternoon ceramics at Color Me Mine. While we painted, we casually discussed what we'd have for dinner, although we all pretended that we were still full from lunch and dessert, but I knew the truth.
Squirrel Hill, while possessing a predominantly Jewish population, also possesses a cultural melting pot of cuisine. Chinese, Japanese, Italian, American... Heck, there's even a restaurant serving only Belgium waffles! As we finished our pottery, a couple walked into the building eating the most curiously appealing dessert that we'd ever seen. It looked like a bright Granny Smith apple on top of pastry. Thoughts of actual dinner vanished while we creepily watched the girl eat her treat and contemplated where to find it. We walked only a few feet before stumbling upon Gaby et Jules, a Parisian bakery located on Forbes Avenue. We bounded inside and were greeted by "bonjour!" K, J and I took three years of French in high school, but none if us recall any phrases more than "may I go to my locker?" Even so, the evident gloriousness of Gaby et Jules seems universal and did not require knowledge of the language. Cases of brightly colored macaroons and petit fours lined the bakery and we immediately found the apple dessert seen earlier.
I suggested the purchase of croissants for breakfast the following day and while we paid, I noticed K also ordering a an apple dessert with a guilty (excited) smile. We vowed that this treat would be delicately split three ways and enjoyed later. We researched Gaby et Jules and found the backstory of the patisserie interesting, with the head chef coming from Paris at the request of his friends and owners of Paris66.
After leaving Gaby et Jules, we decided that viewing so many delicious items had refueled our appetites, so we made outer way to Minneo's Pizza. Minneo's is a Pittsburgh staple and I've only known of one person who did not enjoy it (he's from Philadelphia, so is obviously a fool). J had never experienced Minneo's before and I assured her that she was in for a treat. We ordered a small plain pizza (eight slices) and took our seats.
Minneo's serves food on paper plates with plastic utensils. Minneo's is a cash-only establishment. Minneo's doesn't even have napkins on the tables, but Minneo's creates my favorite pizza in Pittsburgh, hands-down. The crust is chewy and thin, the sauce is smooth and evenly distributed, and the cheese is plentiful. So what if you need a stack of three paper plates to keep the grease from one slice off of the table? It doesn't matter because Minneo's has produced pizza heaven continuously since 1958 and does so with speedy, friendly service.
K, J and I devoured two slices each and boxed up the remaining two pieces. We headed back to Oakmont and before I could even remove my coat, K was slicing the Gaby et Jules apple dessert. As if by miracle, my stomach said "feed me again!" and made room for dessert. We all resumed our groans of "mmmmm" as we explored each layer of the dessert. The "apple" was a green gel covered mound of custard resting upon a flaky cake filled with chunks of real apple. It was delicious and we tried to pretend that the apples made it healthy. The poor dessert didn't last long and we all sat back to digest our day of eating.
Soon, we relocated ourselves to Oakmont's Carnivores, a sports bar and restaurant featuring a fairly impressive draft list. I ordered an Atwater Vanilla Java Porter... Then another and another. Clearly, I wanted to cap off my day of sugar, grease and goodness with the heaviest beer on the menu.
The phrase is go big or go home, but we went even bigger when we got home and buried our faces in popcorn. It was the kind of weekend that you don't want to admit to your significant other for fear of immediate repulsion. It was the kind of weekend that horrifies your sister when you tell her everything that you ate. It was the kind of weekend that makes you happy that you have great friends who enjoy the same things that you do and who will never judge you for always saving room for dessert.
I also find it important to note that J, K and I are NOT giant wildebeests. We are normal sized girls who like to eat larger than normal sized portions. As I said, go big or go home.
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