Burrata vs Sex

I've been busy, getting married and shit. And do you know what marriage is the perfect excuse for? Eating burrata. For breakfast. You spend your wedding night at the Georgia Hotel and the next morning you wake up in marital bliss, roll out of bed, and slum your way down to Hawksworth for brunch.

This one was the fancy shit, with prosciutto, balsamic reduction, fresh figs, walnuts, and olive oil marshmallows. I'd say it's better than sex but I'd be lying.

Burrata Bitches!

See previous entry.

Sometimes a really awesome friend will take you out for dinner at Nook and you will each have to get your own burrata because neither of you are willing to share. Then you make the mistake of trying to add up the 1000+ calories in this dish. Sidenote: you will not find "Creamy Cheese Soaked in Cream" listed as an option in one of those calorie counting apps. 

Ps. If you die before eating one of these your life is not worth living.