Things That Exist, But Maybe Shouldn’t: A ‘Dessert Speakeasy’ Is Coming to Prospect Heights

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Okay, well, this looks amazing. (via Instagram @spiritedbrooklyn)

It’s hard to be cynical about something as uncontroversially wonderful as dessert (although we’ve certainly done it in in the past), but there comes a point in post-Cronuthood where the concept of dessert need not be fetishized any further. This is that point.

Word on the street is that a ‘dessert speakeasy’ is on its way to Prospect Heights (in the former Beast bar space at 638 Bergen St) which will sell liquor-infused desserts and dessert–infused liquor, including “Limoncello and Sorel sandwich cookies, chocolate whiskey pecan pie and Drambuie and honey spice apple Bundt cake.” There’ll also be liquor-and-dessert pairings, like “a shot of Cardamaro with a peanut butter cookie,” according to owner Kimberly Wetherell, previously a filmmaker and stage director. After using baking as a sort of “meditative art,” Wetherell realized she had a knack for creating booze-filled baked goods.

And this is the part where I start to feel like, you know what? This woman is living her dreams, man. Shouldn’t we be celebrating her success? It’s not like she’s starting a Girls bus tour, or worse, erecting a 7 Eleven. It’s a goddamn bakery! With liquor! What could be possibly bad about that?

The answer is nothing. Nothing is bad about that. Let us be clear: Spirited is not the problem here. Spirited is probably going to be really great. I probably will be the first person there, Tweeting about how long the line is and then Instagramming my liquor-infused pastry, followed by a Snapchat of me eating said pastry with double-chinned gusto. Do you see where this is going? I’m the problem. Spirited, and other dessert/baked good—or more widely, über-hyped live art, music and museum phenomena that suck us in with buzzwords that render us incapable of ignoring them (“speakeasy!” “a cafe where you can play with cats!”), are just the enablers. We’re the ones who can’t control ourselves in the face of a damn doughnut.

So, Brooklyn, we’re getting the dessert speakeasy we deserve. Not because we’re perfect and could really use some alcohol on top of that breakfast pastry. No, because this dessert speakeasy is going to test us in the most grueling way possible. Can we handle ourselves? Results to come, via Instagram hashtag—or, hopefully, lack thereof.

Follow Rebecca Jennings on Twitter @rebexxxxa


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