In the Asbury Park Convention Hall last weekend, there was a summer music and market thing. I don’t know exactly what it was called. It was a thing… with music and markets. For a summer-themed event, you can’t imagine what the weather was like. Seriously. I turned around at one point and saw Moses clinging to a giraffe’s neck as they drowned. The giraffe was not pleased. As I walked far enough away to no longer hear the screams, there came a shimmering light in the distance. From that light came the words “free samples”.
When you see the words “free” and “samples” combined, you go. Whether it’s a few steps to the right, or you have to fight a flamingo with razor teeth, you find those free samples and you eat as many as possible. Forget sophistication and class, ain’t nobody got time for that! Now, if you see those two words in front of another word, such as “vegan”, you kill anyone who stands in your way.
This is what I did when I spotted a little stand called ‘She’s Got Balls’. His name was Arnold and he was with his children. They screamed, but understood my stance. But, yes, there I was, face-to-face with ‘She’s Got Balls’. The name could use some adjusting, but I’d eat at a place called “Phlegm Balls R Us”, as long as they had vegan options…. I’m not picky about titles.
Without hesitation, I grabbed an itty bitty sample of ‘Coconut Craze’. I think that’s what it was called; I blacked out after the coconut part. Problem is, the piece I grabbed was a *special* piece. I couldn’t tell what the texture was, nor did I experience the holiness of tropical paradise which I sought. All I tasted was a huge chunk of salt. The life of Scott Baio flashed before my eyes. Mullets and tight jeans danced around my head as I experienced a brief stroke. As I came back into consciousness, I decided that maybe it was time to try a different sample. I was terrified that they would all have salt in them, that I was doomed to repeat the same action with the same results. However, despite losing all sense in my tongue, I could tell that the Almond Hazel Brownie and Lemon Cookie Dough balls were not salty. They were in fact sweets full of sweet sweetness. They were the sugary baked ball equivalent of Alice from The Brady Bunch.
I enjoyed these little dudes so much that I handed over the 5 dollars, a lifetime of Charmin toilet paper (the good kind!), and my cerebellum to buy two balls. See, I won’t complain about the Himalayan salt jawbreakers; some people like that. I am just concerned about the $3 per ball thing. They’re not made with the finest ingredients in all of Scotland, it’s a mud cake rolled into a ball and showered in sugary things. Albeit, a tasty mud cake. Though, aren’t they all? I love mud. Muddy, mud, mud….
Fortunately, the woman who was working the stand was a heckuva salesperson. I mean, she smiled, she gave me a rainbow sticker, and she didn’t make fun of my face…. She knew how to sell a ball of tastiness to a vegan.
For those of you who are wondering, I bought one lemon cookie dough ball and one apple cinnamon “butter” ball. Anytime a food ingredient is given quotation marks, I’m concerned. By “butter” she may really mean “butt”. I’ll leave it to you to decide if you wish to take that risk.
As their website says, “We pop up everywhere from Philly to Brooklyn and much of the Jersey Shore!”
You definitely should go buy some balls. If nothing else, you can make a cake ball pit or use the coconut ball salt to remove dead skin from your feet. Or, just eat them…. Check them out and have a nice chat with the baker(s), you probably don’t have anyone else to talk to, anyway.
Tune in next time when I review something else!
Rating: 8.5/10 unicorn hugs
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