Dean & Deluca. . .how I love your sweet torture

Today I got the fall catalogue for Dean & Deluca. When I lived in Washington D.C., I used to love to go to Dean & Deluca and spend my entire paycheck minus rent on their insanely delicious, insanely expensive food.

Dean & Deluca was the place that introduced me to the idea of edible flowers, the place that kept me connected to delicious stinky (and non-stinky) cheese, and a place that I could wander and dream about fabulous meals I would never be able to afford. Sweet, sweet torture.

There are other gourmet stores, and some are even nearby, but none are as beautiful as Dean & Deluca. The way they lay out a store is merchandise poetry. But the catalogue still suffices to drive me mad, in both a good way and a bad way. And really, this time, Dean & Deluca, you have taken the cake.

I love pumpkin. I praise God for the pumkin, I really do. I don’t think He minds when I am grateful for the little things. I also thank Him for whoever it was who figured out that certain blue molds on cheese were not only not poisonous, but delicious. (Love you, forme d’Ambert!)

Behold, the things that Dean & Deluca can do with the pumpkin:


OK, don’t get mad, Dean & Deluca. I’m not trying to steal your ideas. I’m just loving what you do with the pumpkin. Pumpkin cake, pumpkin cookies and BROWNIES, pumpkin truffles and pumpkin whoopie pies.

A girl can dream. Happy pumpkin dreams.


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