If I could get my dentist to pull all of my teeth and put little bitty pieces of this dessert in my mouth where teeth would be so I could chew on this delight all day long, I would pay him $1million. Words will not do this super-calorie contraption justice. They call it a White Chocolate Turtle Brownie (or something like that). Imagine a hot sugar cookie with white chocolate chips in it, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and drizzled in caramel. It's making me hungry just thinking about it.
The server said we couldn't have the recipe because some old lady comes in everyday and makes them. He doesn't even know how it's made. I call him a liar. Anyone who works in that restaurant is out of their flipping minds if they can't see the goldmine right under their noses. All they need to do is capture the info. How hard is it to torture an old woman anyway? I could break her will (and maybe a hip) in seconds....not that I'd do that for a dessert recipe. Or would I?
If you're ever in the neighborhood of South St. Louis City, visit Sydney Street Cafe. The food and service are phenominal, but this dessert takes the whole experience over the top.
Here are some ways I'd describe it: Chocolate A-Bomb (even though there's no true chocolate in it, but the taste hits like Hiroshima). The Super Crunch (well.... it's not really crunchy, but with the speed at which I chew when it's in my mouth to squish out every last bit of flavor, I've gotta imagine something sounds like it's crunching).
If I could bathe in it, I'd use a spoon as a loofa. If I could ride it, I'd take the scenic route everywhere and never roll a stop again. If I could work for it, I'd joyfully wake up at 5am every morning and put in 20 hour days (hey, a man's gotta get his beauty rest). If I could reproduce with it, I'd keep it barefoot and pregnant because I'd always be balls deep in its caramelly icecream mounds.
The joy I have found in this dessert is like nothing else in my life. Not the joy of nailing a trifecta with three long shots. Not the love of my fiance. Not the sweet release of a 17-beer piss. Nothing. This is the best fucking dessert ever. And I urge you all to forget you've ever heard about it. I want it all for myself.