This Is Really A Love Letter From My Happy Belly To A Particular Slice Of Napoleon Cake

Yesterday, I went for lunch with the cutest man on earth.


If you live in or around Regina, Saskatchewan, you can take my word for it: the GS European Deli, which I've already written about once before, is fabulous, and you should go there. I was raised on meat and potatoes, good Mennonite staples, and so this deli's menu is like reading a poem dedicated to the comfort foods of my childhood.

stuffed pepper

To be clear, this entry is not sponsored by the GS European Deli. I'm just a fan. I want everyone to go there and eat their food and leave with monstrous food baby bellies like I do.

Aidan and the stuffed pepper

The soup below is called solyanka. It's made with fine cut sausages and olives. It is imperative that you throw in a healthy dollop of sour cream.


This is what the solyanka, once ingested, will do to a person:

good soupyum

I've decided not to give a good goddamn about being skinny for summer, because 1) I've never been skinny, 2) I'm not terribly attracted to skinny when it comes to other people's bodies anyway, and 3) I like perogies with butter and sour cream more than I want to ever wear short shorts again, plus 4) short shorts tend to only look good in professional photographs and less so when in action walking down the street.


And, once you've tried this Napoleon cake, which is made in-house, you will never say no to it again.

Napoleon cake

In fact, I would go so far as to say that it would be unethical to withhold Napoleon cake from yourself. Say hello to my healthy butt.

After lunch, I waddled home. I am not even exaggerating. It was embarrassing. But, you know what? I hardly cared.

Napoleon cake

Because, Napoleon cake, bitches. NA. PO. LE. ON!

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