Of Culinary Literacy

So this is a real book, a mystery, as the cover seems to show, and while I have no idea what it is about, I can only surmise that it is wonderful, witty, and possibly about a stuck-up pastry chef who is forced to move in with her sister and brother-in-law after an ill-conceived series of liaisons with younger sous-chefs, leaving her destitute and friendless, only to be physically and sexually abused by her callous in-law, who at some point I'm guessing runs out into the rainy night and to the face of an apartment complex shouts, "FONDANT! FONDAAAAAAANT!!"

The Best Thing I've Eaten In Months

Today I was a good person. I was helpful and bonded with another human being by helping her. The result was she insisted I take a homemade cake pop.

I meant to take a second photo, showing a cross-section of this masterpiece, but–in all honestly–it was so delicious that I consumed the entire thing before I had any thought unrelated to devouring this morsel more quickly.

That said, here's a breakdown:

Under the hand-wrapping is a chocolate-covered sphere of the darkest, most moist chocolate cake I have ever had the pleasure of savoring. This is not hyperbolic by any means. It was literally the greatest piece of cake I have ever had. This has its moisture sealed in by a near-perfectly round chocolate shell, topped in its last moments of molten life my a cascade of mini-M&Ms. As promised, it was delicious cold, with a nice hard shell yet still gooey cake inside.

I don't normally do this, but there's no joke here. This woman, Andrea Sommers, was lovely and her confection was utterly astounding. She bakes professionally, on a very small scale. Her business card is simply her name and phone number, and the phrase, "Homemade Macaroons; Wrapped and shipped for all occasions."

All orders are placed by word-of-mouth, and she has no website for me to plug. For those interested in the local area, I will provide you with her contact number if you would like to place an order. (I do not know how far she would ship. It probably depends on the specific baked good.) For my local friends, I included it in the link from my personal facebook.

I hope someone calls her and orders some amazing desserts, because this was, in absolute honesty, the best thing I have ever eaten in months.

On Snow Days

I had had a plan for yesterday, or rather, I had a plan for a good snow day activity and I just wasn't in the mood for it yesterday. Perhaps if I elaborate you'll understand why.

A while back I came across a recipe for cookies. As you can see, part of that recipe includes functionally prepared cookies. No, it's not some trick, that's a recipe for a chocolate chip cookies with a prefabricated cookie inside. It's a cookie with a delicious other cookie center. Marvelous.

And yet, I just wasn't prepared. I had things to do, people to see, conversations to be had and materials to read. Honestly, I just wasn't in the cookie baking mood. Really, up until this point in my life, I never imagined there was such a thing.

Of course, the last time I ate a dessert that had an Oreo on the inside, I didn't poop for four days, so maybe that had something to do with it.

On Gender Performance

Sunday nights have recently been our fun manly nights.

Jay works the bar so everyone comes to visit him, and since it's a Sunday only a few people other than our friends ever stop in, so mostly it's just us hanging out in a bar with food and pool and darts all night. Well Jay quit tending bar this week. Apparently our happiness wasn't worth the low pay and insane, overtly racist boss and her boyfriend.

Anyway, without beer and gambling and games of skill to fall back on I decided to give up on manliness for the night and bake a chocolate souffle.

All-in-all, I found it to be a tremendous waste of time and eggs. Mostly eggs.

On Pie

I seriously tried "Pie," "meringue pie" and God help me even "cream pie" before I remember that every hilarious pie is banana cream and then BAM! there was this picture of the perfect pie. (I still would have liked to try the lemon meringue though.)



So I just watched a dude get hit in the face with a cream pie for no reason on television and I'm actually surprised at how badly I feel this voice inside me shouting, "Pie the fuck out of some dude."

"Don't think about who," he whispers, "Don't think about the consequences. Just go out and buy a pie. It's cool. It'll sit. Just take it with you and when you hear some telling a story that's really uninteresting, just do it. It's okay. They won't know what to do. Just fucking pie a bitch in the face and run. Yeah, that's right, you don't even stick around to see what happens. This isn't about that. This is about you and your desperate need to plant a pie in a man's face with all the might residing in you."

Yeah, I don't think I'm going to listen to that voice, but he's been there for such a long time I hadn't even noticed. One day soon I will simple wake up to the voice like it were my own, and every thought will culminate in the burning question 'How can I pie someone in the face with this?'

A few days later I'll probably cruise by a bakery just to look.

Then one day after I'll buy a cupcake. Maybe I'll huck it at a deer near the edge of the woods from my car and speed off.

Then I'll begin plotting the perfect pie. Custard. With just a hint of vanilla to set off the flavors of the filling and the flaky crust. I will bake for days, weeks, finding the perfect touch at every turn.

After that it's only a matter of finding the perfect prey. She will be weak at first. I will plan it meticulously. She will go unnoticed when she goes to the laundromat twice in one week.

I will escalate. There will be more victims. Each will call out to me for different reasons. Sometime I will be called without warning. I will be forced to improvise. A wedding cake with witnesses, yodels at a picnic in the park, a fatty with HoHos. However it goes I will be soppy. Evidence may be left.

Then it is only a matter of time before they find me. I will have to disappear. Curb my lust for pies. Perhaps I will build a soundproof bunker in my basement, stainless steal decor belying the most sophisticated cookware known to man.

I DON'T WANT TO DO IT VOICE NO NOT HER OKAY FINE HER BUT ONLY COCONUT OKAY FINE LEMON MERINGUE CRAP OKAY YOU ARE THE WORST MURDEROUS VOICE EVER.