A mildly extreme, quietly screamin' dill pickle pre-breakfast snack:

Here's what you call an impulse buy. We were in a bodega getting cash from an ATM when my well-trained eye spotted these Pringles EXTREME Screamin' Dill Pickle Potato Crips. I didn't just want them. I needed them.

I thought it would make for a good weblog entry to eat these with ice cream, as a tribute to all the pregnant ladies out there (even though I don't know anyone who actually ate pickles and ice cream together while pregnant - or who will admit to it, I suppose).

But I ate too much on Friday, so I'm staying away from the ice cream for at least a few more hours.

Twist my arm, why don't you, and ask me what I ate, already! I think "food diaries" are indulgences too often used for obsessive dieting, but I am proud of the champion eating day I had yesterday.

Brunch at 10:30 am (this meal must be begun before noon. Friends, contrary to what people in New York City seem to think, if you are eating a meal between noon and 9 am it cannot be called "brunch." It's all about the timing. A mimosa and home fries does not a brunch make) marked my first meal at Five Leaves. I devoured all but one piece of toast (it came with four!) in the Big Brekkie -- 2 eggs any style (I chose "over easy"), a whopping portion of home fries (perfect crunch and creaminess, as well as nice rosemary flavor, but could have used more "crunchy bits," or fond), rough-hewn toasted bread, and two sides of my choice (avocado and sautéed mushrooms for me). I also had a bite of Dan's Blat sandwich (Bacon, lettuce, avocado, tomato) and a fry. Wowie zowie.

I couldn't eat again for hours (except for a few pickle Pringles I just had to try), but managed to stuff myself with a "small" (not that small) popcorn-and-Milk-Duds at the movie theater around 5:30pm (By the way, people, please throw away your trash at the end of the movie. There's no reason to leave bags and cups and napkins and trash all over the seats and floor. It's just rude). I also ate some peanut M&Ms there.

My movie-going compatriots then insisted on BBQ at Georgia's, where I had tasty and inexpensive BBQ wings and a superlative lemonade, a few bites of perfect, tangy potato salad, and several modest spoonfuls of 'Nilla Wafer and banana pudding (which is a dessert I adore).

Then I went home and felt sick. And now I am eating more pickle-y Pringles before breakfast on a rainy Saturday. I have a potluck to look forward to this evening, where I plan to overeat. I have learned nothing.

Oh! You want to know how the Pringles taste? They are sour, yes, and a bit salty, but there is something missing (coincidentally, that's also how I feel about the photo heading this post). The scent does make my mouth water a bit (I think that's the citric acid), and the flavor leaves my tongue tingling. They're not extremely "extreme," but that smell and afterburn do scream dill pickle. The last few crunches of each chip are almost bland, though. What's that about?

UPDATE: it turns out yesterday was National Pickle Day. Talk about serendipitous snacking!