Humphry Slocombe Ice Cream

One of my five food rules: Only cheat when it's absolutely worth it.

I rarely deviate from strict Paleo eating. (Example: In the past several months, I've eaten only one sugary dessert. And THAT one was totally worth it.) It hasn't been all that hard for me to pass up grains, legumes and sugar; I've never been a huge fan of any of the above. I don't have a sweet tooth.

BUT: If -- after careful consideration -- I'm absolutely certain that the pleasure of downing a non-Paleo food item is going to totally eclipse any resulting intestinal distress, I'll have zero qualms about eating it. And once the decision's made, I don't go about it half-assed. I go all out.

Case in point: I drove by Humphry Slocombe today (after picking up rabbit from 4505 Meats -- yes, we're cooking and eating Easter bunny flesh this weekend) -- and as luck would have it, there was a parking space right up front. Visions of Chris Cosentino's Boccalone Prosciutto ice cream danced in my head. I parked the car and hustled inside.



Sadly, there was no prosciutto ice cream on the menu today. But my mind was made up: I wanted to taste every flavor on hand. I tried spoonfuls of Salt & Pepper, Jesus Juice, Ancho Chocolate, Salted Licorice, and whatever else looked sufficiently weird and tasty.

After priming my palate with a sufficiently large bolus of sugar, I ordered a scoop of Blue Bottle Vietnamese Coffee ice cream (because I love me some Blue Bottle coffee), with a scoop of Secret Breakfast ice cream on top. Secret Breakfast is, of course, "ice cream with bourbon and toasted cornflakes, including so much Jim Beam that the scoops always run soft."

My very first cup of ice cream in 2011, in all its glory:

Booze. Coffee. Cornflakes. Dairy. Sugar. Total faileo, and my gut is going to hate me for it.

But it was delicious.

Drip, Drip

I know the importance of sleep, but after a few months of waking up for 5 a.m. CrossFit classes three times a week, my eyes just naturally pop open every morning at precisely 4:17 a.m. -- regardless of whether I'm planning to exercise like crazy or roll over and (try to) go back to sleep.

And I'm not eating sugar anymore, so I can't rely on an afternoon snack of Beard Papa cream puffs to keep me from passing out at my desk. What's left?

Caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.

Despite the unusually scorching weather in San Francisco today, I knew I couldn't get through my afternoon meetings without some Blue Bottle drip coffee. So I hustled over to the Ferry Building, plunked down two bucks, and scurried back to the office clutching a hot paper cup while trying to stay in the shade.

The coffee would have tasted even better if I hadn't begun sweating into my cup.