Chocolate.
Rich, gooey, melty, oozing, smooth, handsome, delicious chocolate.
Give me a fruit crumble with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream any day.
No! Don’t switch pages! Not just yet… I mean, just because I’m not a devout chocoholic doesn’t mean I don’t like the occasional nibble or two. Sometimes even three! It’s just… chocolate is so… overwhelming.
And I am easily overwhelmed.
Imagine me, alone in my kitchen at half past eight on a Friday night with the girls coming over for lunch the next day.
The ribs were rubbed and waiting for a beer bath. The table was set.
And there was nothing on the menu for dessert. Nothing. For. Dessert.
(Ok, so there were the cookies I’d made earlier and a couple of punnets of cherries, but please. That was not going to do. Especially for an Argentinian barbecue themed Christmas feast.)
Birthdays (not mine) are exciting occasions. An excuse to spoil your nearest and dearest without the additional barrier of “pai sei” that usually comes with.
(“pai sei” – hokkien. Also known as that awkward attempt to deferentially and only semi-wholeheartedly decline a gift because it would lead to an inequality in the friendship wherein one person is supposedly taking more than they have given and no, I couldn’t possibly accept that because the world may explode as a result. Truly. I’m doing it for your own good. Oh you really want me to have it? Well thanks then, I will. Hm.)
…continue reading burnt salted caramel & honeycomb ice-cream
It appears that, as I get older, all of my largely unadulterated joy is tinged with that bittersweet flavour of things-that-were-not-to-be.
(I’d best clarify that in saying this, I’m not claiming to be “old” by any means. I’ve still got a good ten or fifteen years in me before that happens!)
But still.
