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like today's the last, run + eat + drink, weekend spice

morning miles + bangin brunch + brooklyn ice cream

Essentially, I am independent.

Not only in the “Destiny’s Child-Independent-Woman + I know what I want + how to get it” sense. But also in the “I can eat lunch alone and love every second” sense. Either way, I have simply always been content doing things on my own.

As I’ve grown though, I’ve slowly realized my man Jack Johnson may have been right and that some things are in fact better together.

So this weekend, I indulged my inner need for autonomy with a gorgeous sunrise run. But also, I appreciated collaboration with some incredible chicken + waffles and ice cream with a view.


After perhaps the craziest work week in the history of news, a long run was a MUST on my weekend agenda. So Saturday I rose with the sun and enjoyed some beautiful miles in Central Park.


With each stride in the most beautiful sunlight I could feel the stress melting from my body. Perhaps it is my independence that fuels my love of running — reasoning I am more than okay with. When I set out on a run, I usually set a goal for myself, whether it be in miles or emotions, I like to dedicate my run to something.

With this run, I wanted to log at least five miles and walk away feeling physically + emotionally recharged. And after six wonderfully tiring miles I did just that and returned home feeling confident + accomplished + relaxed. And of course, hungry.


On one very important Sunday many years ago, The Lord completed crafting the heavens and earth, sat back to admire his work and commanded the wisest words known to man: let us eat brunch.

Okay, perhaps the official biblical account of reads differently, but hey, to each her own interpretation right?

So brunch upon a time at the Chelsea Market, I savored a New Yorker’s most treasured weekend meal with a BANGIN cup of coffee + egg white scramble + some good ‘ol chicken + waffles.


Southern food Gods, forgive me for the following confession: I lived in North Carolina for an entire year, but it took moving to New York City for me to try a fluffy waffle topped with crispy fried chicken from Friedman’s. I’ll admit, despite my food ambitions, I’ve always resisted the idea of such a combination — a hesitation I am now regretting, as I waited 21 years to experience it’s undervalued magic.

I’m no expert, but the seasoning on the chicken was definitely the star of the show. It was a spicy tang that complemented the savory cheddar waffle. Top it with a splash of sweet syrup and forget about it. Heaven, plain and simple. Thanks, Friedman’s — you keep doing you.


So as much as you’d think we’d be in full on food coma mode, one of the things I love most about my boyfriend is that like me, he can always eat. And so upon realizing it was National Ice Cream day, our dinner plans were obvious — the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory. And despite some resistance from him, I of course made us forgo cabs and take the scenic route via the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset. Gotta earn my ice cream, you know?

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And after a long walk and an actual HOUR long line, this ice cream was very much built up, but I will be the first to say, it was more than worth the wait. I treated myself to a beautiful top tier waffle cone filled with vanilla chocolate chunk + butter pecan + toasted almonds. Side note: this is the TWO scoop cone. They had a three scoop option, which I seriously considered, but obviously made an okay choice with only two. And obviously, the night wouldn’t be complete without a glass of white vino with a view.



Although I satisfied my independence with a beautiful solo run, what would chicken + waffles and ice cream under the bridge be without someone to share it with? Well if I’m being honest, it would probably still be pretty damn delicious. But I’ll admit, a little togetherness does make it a hell of a lot better.

So I’m walking away the happiest camper + without a regret in the world. Because to everyone else, it was National Ice Cream day, but for me, it was just Sundae.

Run far, eat well, drink better.

xo Mol



About Molly Tavoletti

Stay hungry, stay foolish I NY, NY


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