It’s all he has to say to charm me. How totally hot is that?
It’s good to have a crush…. it keeps you young. Keeps you on your toes even. Helps keep you on top of your game.
I have a huge crush. I admit it.
Drunk texts and everything. Ouch. Those suck when you see them in the morning.
This one has Daddy written all over it.
My dad used to talk to me while he cooked. The reason I’m such a good cook is because it was drilled into my head from an early age.
D- Deglaze the pan with wine, add the flour and BE PATIENT. Let it brown… it will taste better. Wait to add anything until it doesn’t taste like flour. Taste it. Taste everything. Then add the fat back in a little at a time. Taste it. Salt it, pepper, etc… Gravy is like love, anything you pour it on, is better.
Food is sex, love & desire in my book. Huge Daddy issues, and I claim them all. He ruined me forever for any man who makes macaroni & cheese from a box. <eye roll> My macaroni and cheese can make any determined bachelor propose eternal love & devotion.
D- Perfect pastry is necessary. Be angry. Be cold. It’s quick and if you linger and love it, it will hate you. Frozen butter, food processor, chilled flour. It’s like flipping someone off. Do it well and do it quickly and you get exactly what you want. Satisfaction.
My tarts bring all the boys to the yard… I’m just sayin’…. The first recipe I created to make a man fall ass over teakettle in love with me? Worked. Gay men have proposed to me after eating one. They’re that good. Thanks Daddy.
D- Good cheese is like women. Sweet…sharp…sour…creamy…soft…hard and necessary for happiness. Only an idiot would eat a piece of cheese packaged in a plastic wrapper. Don’t offend your palate, sharpen it. If it hasn’t aged a little, don’t put it in your pretty little mouth.
I miss my dad. I ♥ him… but honestly? He’s the original out of sight-out of mind, guy. I know he loves me, I don’t have any Daddy hangups where that’s concerned….
Until we’re talking food. God damn it, Dad.
He-who-can-cook said “olive oil” and my mind started racing. “Gouda” fell from his beautiful mouth and my friend laughed at me.
H- Stop moaning.
Damn it Dad. Jeeez. This is freaky foreplay, and something not many men can do. That really narrows the playing field, and seriously increases my chances of having a fat ass. Thanks a lot.
Because watching my crush push a fork over to me makes me bite my lip. Hearing him cook distracts me to the point I have to shake my head to get the irrationally ridiculous sexual fantasies to stop.
D- Any man who can’t cook, can’t love. If he can’t make a perfect medium-rare steak you will never love him.
Famous last words, Dad… thanks.
To this day? Not a single man I’ve known has made me a perfect steak. How sad is that. I tolerate medium. I despise medium-well. Well done is worth feeding to the dog. In fact I’m annoyed that they call it well-done. It should be called fucking-ruined. Abusing the poor cow after it’s been killed to feed you is just wrong. Shame on all of you fucking-ruined fans.
and way to make it harder, Dad.