January 2018

YOU CAN’T RAIN ON MY PARADE.

The flight to Abaco had been uneventful. It was the day after Christmas and Matt and I were en route to Bikini Hut to ring in the New Year.

Flying into Abaco is interesting. There is no flight control. There is no tower. Each pilot simply communicates on the radio with every other pilot to decide who is where and who is landing when. It doesn’t matter if you are a single engine Cessna Skyhawk or a commercial jet – it’s an act of cooperation and it amazes me every time to hear tiny 4 seater private planes coordinating with turboprops and jets to see where everyone is and what order they are landing in.

“This is Cessna 41-Mike,” we heard over the radio. “Has anyone made it into Treasure Cay in the last 15?”

It was raining, you see.

The flight was uneventful until this moment. Now…we were nearing the Treasure Cay airport in a downpour and many planes were having a hard time landing due to low visibility. The commercial planes had to turn back because there is no ILS approach and they required a higher altitude for visibility to land.

Just as we were considering turning back to wait it out at a drier airport, someone responded. “Baron 32-Alpha just landed. Clear of active runway.”

That said, we knew we could make it.

Landing in the rain is not my favorite, because it means unloading in the rain, getting a taxi in the rain, and probably getting on the boat in the rain, but what other choice was there?

We landed in the rain. We unloaded in the rain. We got into a taxi in the rain.

It was still raining when we reached the Treasure Cay Marina, where our boat was waiting. Rather than load the boat in the rain, we decided to wait it out with rum punches and fish burgers tucked inside the Tipsy Seagull where it was nice and dry and where our furry children were welcome.

A few rum punches later, the rain dissipated and we loaded the boat to make our way to Bikini Hut on Guana Cay!

We were almost there.

Sure, we arrived later than expected, but we had plenty of time to unpack, get what few groceries we needed from the on island store, and get to Grabbers for sunset, that first frozen grabber of the trip, lobster bites, and mac n’cheese.

It felt like a Welcome Home to me.

IT’S NOT WEDNESDAY, IT’S SUN DAY.

Sure, it was mid-week but the sun was shining and the day started off bright and HOT. This was fine with me because December in Abaco can bring anything from 50 degrees to 80. A high near 80 with endless sun was a perfect first day.

We had nothing planned. A whole lot of nothing.

The morning started with a walk on the beach with my favorite girls. Bella and Rooby were happy to be back.

Rooby loves watching the sun come up.

Our December trips are more about “to dos” than leisure, and Matt had a list of things he wanted to accomplish during our week at the Hut. I didn’t have much to do, so I opted for a lazy day at Grabbers. I knew it wasn’t going to be this warm all week and I wanted to take advantage of it while I could.

I grabbed one of these….

And stared at this….

Until I was so sun drunk I could do nothing more than roll over every once in a while to ensure I burned evenly.

Eventually, the lure of the sun was more than Matt could take and he joined me for lobster caprese sandwiches and fish tacos.

And then a little more of this….

We have become friends with several other homeowners on the island and everyone had finally arrived, so we agreed to meet up at one of the houses for dinner. We grabbed a sunset, a Grabber, and headed out to finish the day with our island family.

IT’S A PINK NIGHTMARE.

It was another beautiful morning on Guana Cay.

Matt had plans to do something fun like pour a cement ramp to the laundry room or rebuild the shutters, so I grabbed my beach bag and ran out of the house faster than you can shake a paintbrush.

I had no intention of spending a beautiful day painting trim, so I parked myself on a lounge chair at Nippers, ordered a spicy bloody Mary, and watched the clouds go by.

Matt joined me for lunch and we agreed to share a healthy lunch and a fried pile of delicious crap so that neither of us felt too guilty. The seared ahi tuna salad was amazing….but so was the cracked lobster with fries.

To avoid being labeled a total slacker….I spent the afternoon painting shutters.

Mainly because I had to soften Matt up.

You see, it was the night of the annual Guana Cay Christmas Golf Cart Parade.

We discovered last year that the golf cart parade is the most fun that can be had at 3 mph. Everyone dresses up in tacky Christmas attire and meets at the Lumberyard. From there, about 50 decorated golf carts roll through town, making stops at each of the 3 main restaurants on Guana where food is served and drinks are bought….ending the night at Nippers for a tacky Christmas dance party.

“I look like a deranged Easter Bunny,” Matt said.

“You look AMAZING!” I lied. (actually....he DID look amazing....)

Matt’s favorite Christmas movie is A Christmas Story, but I still couldn’t believe he had agreed to my costume idea. He did, however, require a small dose of liquid courage.

We met up with our island family first so that we could all head to the Lumberyard together to ensure we were lined up in succession during the parade.

I love these people.

We made our way to the Lumberyard and waited for the parade to start.

Now….Matt might have been wearing the world’s largest pink onesie, but I was wearing HIGH HEELS. I never wear heels on Guana. High heels and Guana Cay go together like Rob Kardashian and Blac Chyna.

And much like Rob Kardashian and Blac Chyna, mixing the two leads to a greater than average chance of violence, bodily harm, ripped fishnets, and tears.

I proved this point when I got clever and decided to hold one leg up under my lampshade, you know, so I looked more like the one-legged lamp from the movie?

Rather than looking like a MAJOR AWARD…I got my heel caught in my hoop and immediately took a hard dive to the gravel.

This broke my fall:

At that moment, I would have given anything to have been wearing a pink fleece onesie.

Instead, I brushed it off and screamed, “And she’s up!” I guess I am not so FRUH-GEE-LAY after all.

FRI-YAY!

The next morning, Matt had to make the Bunny Walk of Shame.

He had gotten our golf cart stuck at Nippers the night before, you see. Late nights, drinks, bunny suits, and golf cart parking do not mix.

With the golf cart secured back at the Hut, we decided it was a nice day to get the boat out. It was sunny, but the wind was acting up a bit, so we decided not to go far.

Our plan was to simply hop over to Man-O-War and grab lunch and pick up a couple of new bags from the sail shop to add to our ever growing collection.

We stopped in at the Dock-N-Dine where we enjoyed the beautiful views and ran into more Guana friends.

I like any restaurant in Abaco that veers from the traditional menu of: 1) Cheeseburger, 2) Fishburger, 3) Cracked Conch…all served with fries, peas n’rice, or mac n’cheese.

For starters, we enjoyed the black bean and lump crab cakes topped with goat pepper salsa and served with citrus yogurt. For lunch, I had the triple seafood pita club: a warm pita filled with fried lobster, shrimp and crab along with crispy lettuce, tomato, and bacon. Matt dove into the amazing Tommy Burger which is topped with crispy onions, spicy apple jam, white cheddar, and a rosemary BBQ sauce.

We meandered through the sunny streets of Man-O-War until we reached Albury’s sail shop. This is a must stop on most trips to Abaco. We love their canvas bags and simply can’t get enough of them.

In order to get Matt to knock off half a day and play on the boat, I had agreed to spend the afternoon working on the shutters.

That night, one of our island friends hosted dinner for the group and we all gathered for the end of another beautiful island day.

MEET ME AT TAHITI

After our morning walk on the beach with the girls, I convinced Matt to take a full boat day. We’d been working all week (in between having a little fun) and it was a beautiful day to be on the water. The sun was shining, the water was calm, the wind was down….it was a perfect day.

We made our way to Elbow Cay and anchored at Tahiti Beach to watch the sand bar arrive.

What we didn’t expect was an actual SAND BAR.

This floating bar showed up just as we were leaving, so I didn’t get a chance to try it. That just means something new for next time!

I had my heart set on Lunch at Firefly. Without a reservation, you better get there early or you won’t be eating. We pulled in right at noon and scored an amazing waterfront table. By the time we left, they were literally turning people away telling them the list was too full to add anyone else for lunch.

Firefly has the best cocktails and food around, so a meal there is always something to savor.

I started off with a smoky mezcal old fashioned, which was a nice change from the sweet tropical drinks I had been sucking down for the last few days.

The lobster quesadilla with mango pineapple salsa was calling our name. Drizzled with chipotle sour cream, it was the perfect way to start lunch.

Matt had the panko crusted fish cakes (which looked more like balls….just sayin’) served with mesclun greens and fruit salsa.

I had what was quite possibly the best salad of my life: the naked cobb salad with coconut panko crusted lobster. Yes, I realize the bacon, blue cheese and deep fried lobster destroyed any chance that salad had of being healthy, but it was so delicious I did not care.

After lunch, we hopped over to Hopetown Harbour where we walked around for a bit before relaxing with a drink at the Reef Bar at Hopetown Harbour Lodge. I never get tired of these views.

With the shorter winter days, it was time to head back so we could make it in before dark.

We wrapped up the day with a blazing sunset at Grabbers and a pizza at Orchid Bay.

THE PERFECT STORM.

It was Sunday Funday at Nippers. It was New Year’s Eve. And it was the day the famed Bucketlust yacht group and their Bravo film crew had decided to descend upon our tiny little island.

It was the perfect storm.

We headed to Nippers early so that we could enjoy the beach bar before the crowds arrived. I admit that I am one of the instigators when I am with a group, but when it’s just me and Matt, we keep things low key. We were just there to be spectators today.

The calm before the storm….

The place was empty and beautiful, just the way I like it. We had some frozen Nippers, dipped in the pool, lay in the abundant sunshine, and shared a cheeseburger.

When things went from this:

To this:

We knew it was time to call it a day.

We did what old people do on New Year’s Eve….we went home and took a nap. How else am I supposed to stay awake until midnight??

Then it was time for NYE dinner.

I tried to dress fancy for the occasion, but it had turned cooler, and within minutes, I decided to ditch the dress for jeans and a long sleeve shirt.
In case needing a nap in order to stay out late isn’t a sure sign you are old, another one is trading in a cute, sequin mini dress on NYE for jeans because it’s more comfortable.

Normally, we spend NYE at Nippers, but we simply couldn’t resist the lure of being eyewitnesses to the debauchery promised by the Bucketlust NYE party at Grabbers.

From what we gathered, Bucketlust is an international group that puts together outrageous party vacations for young schmucks who like to spend a week wearing inappropriate costumes, throwing garbage into the ocean, consuming copious amounts of alcohol, and dancing while partying aboard a flotilla of 25+ catamarans as they sail through some poor, unsuspecting island chain.

It was our lucky day. This ghastly group of people had chosen the Abacos as their NYE destination and had chosen Guana Cay as their first stop to host their extreme NYE party.

In a very short period of time, our sweet little Grabbers was transformed into a den of debauchery, loaded with 300+ partygoers dressed in their best porn versions of your favorite Disney characters. They proceeded to litter the beach and ocean, tear up the hammocks, throw crap into the pool, and drink until they vomited or took their clothes off in front of strangers – which ever came first.

It was quite a show.

One of the Bucketlust staffers actually approached us before midnight and advised that we leave just after midnight because ….”It will really get bad after that.”

At midnight, we left. We’d had enough. If what I saw was only the beginning….I didn’t need to see any more.

Sign 3 that I am getting old? Sure. After watching those young people, I wear my age with pride.

ABOUT LAST NIGHT...

On our way to walk the dogs, Matt and I stopped at Grabbers because I wanted to get a look at the boats in the harbor (they had arrived after dark, so it was our first chance to see this massive group of boats).

What I didn’t expect was the amount of devastation they left in their wake. Plastic cups, Styrofoam plates, straws, flip flops, and the remnants of costumes littered the beach, hung from the trees, and worst of all….floated all in the harbor. You could still hear the electronic dance music eurothumping from their boats AT 6:00 a.m.

(Sign 4 you are old – you are up at 6:00 a.m. on New Year’s Day)

I’m sure the homes nearby loved listening to their music all night and into the morning. I’m sure Grabbers staff loved trying to get their dirty underwear out of the palm trees. And I’m sure the sea creatures loved swallowing their plastic straws and dodging their plastic cups in the ocean.

I sincerely hope Bucketlust was a “one and done” as far as the Abacos are concerned. The Abacos are family islands. I love a good party as much as the next girl, but these people were not respectful of this island, it’s people, or the environment. I say take your garbage and bare butts to Ibiza or Mykonos. Go to Cancun for God’s sake, but don’t bring it back here.

(Sign 5 you are old – you give a lecture to young partygoers for partying too hard on NYE)

I will now climb off my soapbox and tell you about how we spent our last day on the island taking the girls on a boat ride to the lagoon.

We drank strawberry daiquiris and ate chips and wasted the day away.

We ended the day with a quiet dinner at Nippers – seafood fettuccine for Matt and grilled lobster for me.

ARRIVE IN THE RAIN. LEAVE IN THE RAIN.

We had amazing weather while we were down, but we had arrived in the rain and I’ll be darned if it wasn’t pouring when we woke up to leave.

I have to brag on Matt here. The man is a saint.

We had to take the boat back to Treasure Cay. This meant loading the boat in the rain, driving the boat to Treasure Cay (an hour) in the rain, unloading the boat in the rain, loading the taxi in the rain, unloading the taxi in the rain, and loading the plane in the rain. He put me and the dogs in the dry and did all of this by himself so we wouldn’t both be wet.

He’s a good man.

We arrived home to unreasonably cold temperatures, but with the warmth of our island home still in our hearts.

Next up – we couldn’t handle the cold, so we ran off to Key West! Stay tuned!

Ahhhh…..fall. A season filled with crisp cool air, blue skies, and colorful leaves. As the calendar slowly slid into autumn, I decided there was no better way to enjoy the beautiful fall weather than to plan an escape. The “been there, done that” nature of previous fall trips to the nearby mountains begged that I try something new.

Inexplicably, I found myself drawn to the coast. I had a vision of foggy mornings on a creaking wooden dock, sipping hot cider from an oversized mug, wearing a chunky sweater and plotting a day filled with blue crabs and sailboats.

Not wanting to fly too far, I set my sights on St. Michael’s, Maryland, a small town on the state’s Eastern Shore with a population just a smidge over 1,000. Located right along the craggy coastline, this quaint waterfront destination seemed like an idyllic waterfront retreat.

I knew it would be easy to talk Matt into it. All I had to do was tell him part of the movie Wedding Crashers, one of his favorites, was filmed there.

“HOLY SHIRTS AND PANTS” we were headed to Maryland!

“CRAB CAKES AND FOOTBALL! THAT’S WHAT MARYLAND DOES!”

As we taxied down the runway at the Easton, MD airport, I had visions of crab cakes dancing in my head. The “crab-zilla” to be precise.

Sugar Buns Bakery was conveniently located in the FBO at the Easton Airport and is home to the King Crab of sandwiches….the crab-zilla. It’s piled high with a giant crab cake, 6 legs of crispy bacon, a slab of heirloom tomato, and fried onion rings on 2 thick pieces of Texas toast and finished off with olive “eyes.”

Nothing says, “Welcome to Maryland” like a crab cake bigger than your head.

We checked into our delightful Air BNB rental. Located right on the water with its own dock and several acres, it was exactly what we were looking for.

We quickly settled into some large Adirondack chairs to do nothing more than watch the ducks swim by.

Before it got too dark, we decided to take the pontoon boat that came with the house out for a sunset spin.

Not wanting to venture too far from home that first night, I had found a local place just down the street that served an oyster buffet on Friday nights. To Matt, the words “all you can eat oysters” has the same impact that “Louis Vuitton is giving away free purses” would sound to the average woman.

He practically ran there.

Oysters…meh. I dove into the crispy fried chicken and mac n’cheese.

For dessert, we had to try the famous Smith Island Cake, apparently found all over St. Michaels, but this was our first. The State Dessert of Maryland, a true Smith Island Cake has 8 – 14 individually baked thin layers of cake with frosting between each layer and then slathered generously on the outside.

The cake hails from Smith Island, a 400 year old fishing village with only about 250 residents. It was there that the cake was born. In the 1800’s, when the men of the village would go on the annual autumn oyster harvest, their wives would bake the cakes to send with them as a reminder of their families and communities waiting for them at home. They began to use fudge in the layers rather than frosting, as it kept longer when they were out at sea.

Traditionally yellow cake with fudge frosting, there are many variations. We tried the red velvet. It was 9 layers of delicious.
After Matt had eaten his fill of oysters, we stopped off at the Inn at Perry Cabin for a drink at Purser’s Pub. The Inn was the location where the wedding in Wedding Crashers was filmed. Just seeing the grounds made me wish I was dancing to the YMCA in a bad bridesmaid dress.

“RULE #1: NEVER LEAVE A FELLOW CRASHER BEHIND.”

It was a beautiful misty morning on the water, and Matt really wanted to simply curl up by the fire with a good book, but we weren’t having any of that.

It was time to head into St. Michaels and do some shopping!

St. Michaels was small and quaint. It’s main thoroughfare, Talbot Street, was lined with colonial buildings turned into adorable shops. It was the height of their “Fall into St. Michaels” festival, so the place was bursting at the seams with colorful leaves, hay bales, corn husks, pie contests, and pumpkin carving.

We sampled artisan olive oils, we sniffed home-made goats milk soap, we sifted through dusty antiques and ate ice cream.

We had been told by locals that The Crab Claw was a “must do.” Touristy, yes, but still a “must do.” So we did it.

It was a beautiful sunny day and we were seated right on the water with their amazing margaritas and a bucket of crabs served with a side dish of Old Bay.

Now, I thought we had some weird sides in the south: hominy, polk salad, grits, squirrel dumplings, pickled eggs….but Old Bay? Apparently, people in Maryland put Old Bay on everything. Crabs? Needs more Old Bay. Pasta? Maybe let’s add some Old Bay. You know what this cupcake needs? OLD BAY!

I had my Old Bay. I had my newspaper. I had my bib. I had my hammer. I was ready. Bring on the crabs.

I’m going to be honest here.

I didn’t get it.

Crab legs are one thing – sure, there is some work involved, but you get a giant meaty slab as a result. Better yet….a crab cake! Let someone else do all the work and then just mash that yumminess up into a patty for you.

But whole crabs.

I didn’t get it.

Why did I want to eat food that came with an extensive paper diagram explaining how to eat it?

And required the use of a hammer?

Yes, the meat was delicious, but I nearly died of starvation in the 754 minutes it took to get the meat out of ONE CRAB. And when I did get the meat out, my hands were SO DIRTY. And the meat was SO TINY.

The work-to-reward ratio seemed a little off to me. I spent 10 minutes digging into a recently deceased crustacean, all sharp armor and prickly legs, to achieve a disappointing pile of sweet inner meat. I got a thimble full of wine when I worked for a double magnum.

And my hands were stinky.

Don't you northerners every say another word to me about grits. Are they confusing? Sure. Do they make you wonder why you should eat them? Of course. But at least with grits, you can just pick up a spoon and start eating. And they don’t make your hands dirty.

I figured out quickly that eating blue crabs was more about socialization and less about actual food consumption. Sitting in the autumn sunshine, watching the boats cruise by, and leisurely picking the meat from a blue crab would have been amazing if I hadn’t been starving.

Notes for next time: Get bigger crabs; eat something else first; enjoy the experience rather than looking for the reward.

Next time, blue crabs….I’ll be ready for you.

After lunch, we made a stop at Lyon Distilling Company, a micro craft distillery specializing in rum and whiskey.

Not only was the place lovely to look at, the rums were quite amazing. We particularly liked the Rock & Rum. To get this delightful creation, they infused their signature white rum with orange botanicals, blended the distillate with a candied-orange caramel, and finished it with dark cherries. It tasted like a rum old-fashioned in a bottle.

We followed rum sampling with wine sampling at St. Michaels winery, because nothing is better after eating a teaspoon full of crab meat than drinking a whole lot.

We made it back to the house in time for a breathtaking sunset.

Then it was off to Ava’s for pizza.

We were joined for dinner that night by local friends that we had never actually met.

It’s not uncommon these days to have “friends” you know only through common interests on the interwebs or that you met via other friends through social media.

This can lead to some awkward meetings where you end up in the same place at the same time and decide you MUST get together only to find out you have nothing in common and are pretty sure they are stalkers. It also leads to some epic friendships. Some of our best friends are people we met “virtually.”

I was really nervous. What if they turned out to be weirdos?

We should not have been worried about them being weirdos.

What I failed to realize was that WE were the weirdos.

One of us broke a wine glass all over their feet within 5 minutes of meeting them (Matt), one of us fell face first out of their truck and landed sprawled like road kill on the street with ripped pants (me), and one of us spent most of dinner in the bathroom (who this was shall remain anonymous to preserve someone’s already shattered dignity).

Despite making a colossally horrific first impression, we hit it off.

I love it when “virtual friends” become “real friends.”

“UM…BUT STARBOARD’S THIS WAY.”

With another crisp fall day in our hands, we decided to drive to nearby Tilghman Island for a ride on a historic skipjack, the Rebecca T. Ruark.

Tilghman is a tiny speck of an island in the Choptank River in the Chesapeake Bay. Just 3 miles long and a mile wide, its location in the bay allowed fisherman to work the water year round since the 1830’s.

Built in 1886, the Rebecca T. Ruark is the oldest surviving skipjack in the Chesapeake Bay fleet. Her captain, Wade Murphy, will take you out on her for a 2 hour no-frills tour filled with stories of the island, the bay, and the boat.

Rebecca has dredged, hauled, raced, sank, been raised, been repaired, restored, rebuilt, and rebuilt, and rebuilt again. She has many tales to tell.

As we climbed aboard, I wasn’t sure who was crustier, the boat or the captain. Both were salty, weather-worn, and absolutely wonderful. Cpt. Wade made it instantly clear that there “Warn’t no drinks or food on this trip” and if that was a problem, we should just head back to our cars and go on a fancy sail.

Cpt. Wade’s face was a maze of hard earned lines. He had one squinty eye and a gruff voice. His hands were like leather, no doubt from years of hauling up oysters in the frigid bay. He told us right off that he couldn’t hear a thing, so we should listen more than we talked.

And boy, did he talk. As we settled into cracked plastic deck chairs, he pulled out a stack of faded notebooks. Each one was filled with clippings and photos. He proceeded to tell us about his island, his life as a 3rd generation waterman, and about his boat. While he liked to pretend he was a crusty character, he had a smile in his eyes and he literally glowed as he told us his stories.

I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend $30 or 2 hours.

They just don’t make them like the Rebecca T. Ruark anymore. Or like Cpt. Wade.

It had been a beautiful morning to be on the water and all that oyster talk had made us hungry. We made our way across the tiny island to Marker 5, a lovely waterfront restaurant with a breezy deck facing the water.

Mid-day cocktails were ordered along with BBQ nachos, beer shrimp (with OLD BAY!), and a rich bowl of Maryland crab soup.

Before leaving, we made a quick tour of Tilghman Island and the Country Store.

We got home in time to spend a lazy afternoon staring at the water and taking the boat out for a sunset cruise.

Dinner was a Gina’s, a kitchy little Southwest restaurant in town. It exuded a wonderfully bohemian vibe complete with string lights, original artwork, handpainted signs on the tables, mismatched tableware, and a case filled with old books. So, it really didn’t surprise us when we realized there was no “meat” on the menu. No strictly vegetarian, there was plenty of fish and seafood which was perfectly fine with us.

The margaritas were spectacular and the crab nachos were gargantuan. The shrimp tacos were loaded with spinach, goat cheese, mango salsa, and chipotle mayo.

We never missed the beef.

“MAKE ME A BICYCLE, CLOWN.”

Our original plans for the day were to rent bicycles and ride to the Oxford ferry. However, once I Googled the route and figured out much of the ride was on a busy 2 lane highway with no bike lane, I quickly changed my mind.

Vicki + Bicycle + Traffic = Unavoidable Catastrophe.

Instead, we made a hearty breakfast and drove to the ferry.

Sure, we could have driven to Oxford, but what was the fun in that? We still wanted to ride the ferry across.

Oxford was everything a coastal Maryland town should be. It was all picket fences, red front doors, and American flags. Brick walkways were scattered with pumpkins and colorful leaves, and the streets took us through colonial houses and cute little shops.

We were devastated to find that the Scottish Highland Creamery was already closed for the season. Okay, maybe the others were just slightly disappointed, but I was devastated.

Instead, we settled into the courtyard at the Robert Morris Inn. Built in 1710, it claims to be the oldest inn in America.

After a lunch of more crab cakes and crisp rose, it was time to jump back on the ferry.

We had an afternoon sunset sail scheduled on the Selina II. We got the sail, just not the sunset.

No matter, there was enough bubbly to make up for it.

Captain Iris was a very accomplished sailor, despite the fact that she looked like the love child of Sigourney Weaver and Bethany Frankel.

We ended the evening at the St. Michaels Crab & Steak House at the recommendation of Captain Iris. We had been crabcaked to death and needed some fried seafood.

Casual and cozy, with perfect coconut fried shrimp, it was just the thing to follow a non-sunset sail.

“MA …THE MEATLOAF!”

It was time to head home, but not without some beef to offset all that crab.

The house-cut fries and thick cheeseburgers at Sugar Buns was a perfect send off.

Especially when followed by a slab of Smith Island Cake.

Rule #64 – Always save room for cake.