It doesn’t take much to convince me to dive into something sweet. No one has to twist my arm to order (more) dessert after dinner, and there’s always room for another bag of Haribo in my bag after a trip through Duty Free. Since I can remember, my palate has been fine-tuned to favor a decadent chocolate mousse or a brownie sundae piled high with whipped cream. When I moved to Buenos Aires however, I had no idea what I was in for. Dulce de leche on top of dulce de leche, crema pastelera out the wazoo, kilo after kilo of creamy helado in every flavor imaginable. The saccharine overload was almost enough to turn me into a savory-only girl.