(Hell) Bent at Heavensent - Saying Hell no to the halo
In a rush, I went against my better judgment and decided to pick up dessert at Heaven sent. I had remained distant (emotionally, geographically it was just blocks away), after several unsettled spats between their treats and my taste-buds. This recent trip of desperation only solidified why I Hades this place so much.
My cake-loving companion and I set off to choose a couple delights for a birthday celebration, but this wasn’t an easy task by any means. Mainly because the entire staff had the attitude of an annoyed teenager whose mother kept badgering them to clean their room (apparently, I was mom.)
We received a blank stare with our order (free of charge), as the girl (later referred to as Teen Trauma) searched our faces, to see if the new season of Candid Camera had picked her as the butt of a joke where “crazy customers” ordered more than one item. With body language bordering on tantrum status (stomping feet, audible sighs) she began collecting our outrageous order of THREE desserts.
“This is to go,” we mentioned, trying to cut her annoyance by clueing her in that it wasn’t all for us, but that just meant she had to get a box. Now she was pissed.
I was almost scared to ask for a chocolate malted at this point, but since it was 90 degrees outside, I took my chances. I lost. When I asked for the drink “to go”, Teen Trauma said, “I can’t do that.” Of course this made absolutely no sense, but neither had any of her other behavior, so I figured once they handed it to me in a glass, I would ask for a to-go cup and do it myself.
We waited at a nearby table when Teen Trauma 2 (the male version) sidled up with a parfait topped with bananas and malt balls. What the...? Again, I had to wait in a line as long as Purgatory and again Teen Trauma seemed exasperated by my presence. I told her that I ordered the drink, a chocolate malted, “You know, like a milkshake?”
“I’ll refund your money back.”
Um, how about offering me what I originally ordered? It would be nice to make a profit and give the customer want they wanted, wouldn’t it? It didn’t matter. Call me bat girl because I was gone faster than one out of Hell.
As for the desserts, their passage through my pearly (white) gates didn’t leave without judgment:
Guinness stout chocolate cake- the dark chocolate cake with cream cheese icing was tasty, but I’d rather spend my money on the actual beer- the name made it a novelty, but didn’t warrant a $7 price tag.
Cheesecake- cut them into triangles if you want, but three sides of “blah’ are congruent to “blah.”
Angel food cake- finally this lived up to its namesake and made for some summertime sinning with fresh strawberries and REAL whip cream-everything was balanced, airy- dare I say, heavenly.
Too bad that was my only glimpse into the light because it wasn’t enough to make me a believer. Their penance would be paid in profit losses and diminishing clientele, but that would be their cross to bear (claw.)