strawberries and chocolate!
strawberries and chocolate!!!
i'm 100% about that life, y'feel me?
how could i not be?
on the ones-
that's that sexxxy sh!t.
you know it;
i know it;
we all know it-
since it's such a well-known level eleven hottness combination:
if you happen to be one of the unfortunate tasteless turds who can't hang tough
with that sort of superfancy stuff?
then, you are clearly an A*-hole, and we're done here.
if you're down to get down with the get down,
check the teleport:
i'm almost embarrassed that they're so good.
pastry rounds, from my patented pastry proportions.
strawberry jam blops spread down thin first thing,
a handful of chocolate chunks.
the chunks are key, here-
chips could work, but they'd be less lusciously indulgently dope.
y'need that semisweet shrapnel for activating the expertism, for sure.
fresh sliced strawberries, with vanilla-infused sugar sprankled on top,
to get the juices flowing.
i pinched all the edges, but baking that superbuttery dough unfolded every effort.
i ended up with crusty, crispy plates under all my toppings.
they're still rad, and they taste exactly the same, so i can live with that.
i baked 'em at 410F for thirty.
...and when they were coolish enough to mess with?
i messed with 'em.
kapowdered sugar dustin',
and ganache drizzle-stripin' hottness!!
what do we call that?
oh, right: that's expert.
that's the way to really keep traditions alive.
too much is the right amount.
that's a thing.
i make the nice, guys.
i think it's important to do pretty things,
especially if you're anything like me.
you gotta balance it out.
i think that's a good idea.
i don't know how to display my best intentions in words.
the temptation, the urge, the instinctual drive to deliver clever quips
supersedes all of my best ideas.
the brutal barbarian battle-beastly bard in me wants to be noticed.
the thing of it is,
so does the professional appreciator of beauty and sweetness.
that's where the cakes come into play.
flip sides of a coin, kids.
without the bitter, the sweet's just not as sweet.
....that sort of sh!t.
baking is quiet, save the clang of pots and pans.
talking can be nice,
and the right words do fall into place like well-balanced ingredients
when i set myself to the task of competent communication-
i bake things.
i break things.
and all of it is really happening, right this second;
never quiet, never soft.....