Guilty Pleasures

Simone Olivia

Okay, dear people, once and for all: yes, I too have guilty pleasures. And no, those are not goji berries coated with raw chocolate and sea salt from Guérande.

I may hang out with weights six days a week or run through the greenery, but I (especially I, because do you really think I work out six days a week just to chew on a stalk of celery?) have my treats that I get out of bed for. I want to make that clear to you, and secretly also to my lovely colleagues, so that next time I won't be looked at with big eyes again when I shove a brownie into my mouth in two bites. ‘Simoon, what are you doing now? That's going to be ten laps around Vondelpark tonight.’

Limburgian sour meat. Well, a girl from the south, right?

– That famous scone from GAIL’s Bakery in London, of course with clotted cream and jam, otherwise you’re not participating.

– A good lasagna from la mama, not with béchamel, but with cheese and extra cheese.

– My favorite Petite Sirah from California, with that giant cheese platter, and preferably one that you can smell from afar. Yes please.

– Apple crumble, again mom's recipe (so I really didn't get it from a stranger that I love standing between the pots and pans). And it has to come straight out of the oven, with lots of cinnamon and a melting scoop of ice cream on top. Burp.

– A cinnamon roll. When I lived in the US of A, I sometimes sacrificed my breakfast and lunch for a visit to Cinnabon. Okay, I'm grabbing a tissue, because I'm just drooling hard in front of Kiek (awkward). In my intro video, you already saw that you score points with me if there's cinnamon in or on something. Secretly, I hope that May and Elke pack one in their suitcase when they are in NY for Fashion Week next week.

Okay, I'm grabbing a tissue, because I'm just drooling hard in front of Kiek.

– A regular piece of fresh (warm) baguette with that healthy salad tonight, thickly spread with butter and a generous pinch of coarse sea salt. Man oh man.

– Limburgian sour meat. Well, a girl from the south, right?

– Last but not least, tatatatatataaaaa… A big handful from a bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs. Unfortunately available only twice a year in Murica, at Christmas and Easter. Guess what (or better how many) gets delivered to my home in a big box in the late winter and spring. It's nice to have those connections in the States.

But uh, girlfriend, have I now lost my image? I believe I won't dare to come to the office tomorrow.