Hannah R.
Yelp
Looordy, do I love me a bakery. You know, those flapjacks oozing with butter and little cakes overflowing with goodness as sweet as my mama's southern iced tea. Oh lordy, I can hardly contain myself. I walked by Sophecles Bakery and, well, if my stomach didn't start a'rumblin like the mighty waters of the Mississippi, my name just ain't Suzanne the Southern Sweet Peach. And that's my name; you got that?
Sometimes though, I walk into a bakery and I feel me like a good look around before I buy. But that there lady behind the counter, well honey let me tell you, she looked at me expectantly with her black eyed peas of peepers and asked me what I wanted before I had me a good gander at what it was there to eat. She made me feel a bit like someone forgot to serve me my sausage links with my morning gritz, looordy, a bit nervous, uncomfortable. So, I felt compelled to get something even though I wasn't too sure I wanted to get one of their little sweet thangs. I got a caramel square, a caramel bit with a consistency like condensed milk on a grainy biscuit topped in chocolate. They had big pieces of sweet cinnamon bread for 80, which I almost got instead. But I didn't.
I tell you, this here caramel-chocolate concoction, I was between loving it and not loving it like when you wanna bake yourself in the hot southern sun 'cause it feel so mmm mmm good, but it gives you a sunburn. I decided after comparing it to my mamas home cookin', that it was lacking a bit of zest, but that it was alright in all.