On Thursday night, I became the embodiment of every parent's worst fear about their child's vegetarianism: I had ice cream and french fries for dinner.
After four days of cooking and eating meticulously sourced, impeccably fresh vegetable-based meals, I couldn't take it any more. I needed relief from the virtue and toil of Meatless Week. And so, when I was walking past Shake Shack and saw that there was a lull (for once, the line was not out the door), I pounced.
Ten minutes later, in possession of a small cup of vanilla custard (with peanut butter sauce) and an order of fries (mayo on the side), I sat myself down in the sunshine to be very, very naughty. Not gonna lie: it was seriously good. I hardly even missed the burger.