*
Hmmm... First there are the visions of years of corny advertisements, haunting my mind. Pieces, no, dollops of butter melting over that smoking hot bed. Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, it beckons and is promptly devoured with a eager grin.
.
Then the picture becomes clearer... Italian , smiling to me from inside the oven, smeared with olive oil, browning beautifully with a lovely do of black olives, chopped garlic and thinly sliced roma tomatoes sprinkled with fresh basil. Indecent.
.
All of a sudden the firm flesh of a thick, round, golden beauty catches my eye. In its mignon version, short and intriguing, it opens up. Inside lies a decadent slice of smoked turkey ham, topped with a poached egg lusciously dripping in bright yellow and instigating purple onion in delicate slices.
.
What is that smell? Is it Christmas morning? It must be, because that could only be... oh good lord, French Toast. Charming, delicious, sweet sweet French Toast covered only by a veil of honey.
.
... Why is food always flirting with me in my thoughts? And what is it with the bread?
.
Sigh... I love bread.
(Food porn found here)
*
*
On another note, thanks to Mom and that Chicken soup (see previous post) I'm as fresh and dainty as a daisy again, so maybe tomorrow I'll do some Valentine baking. Even if its not actually celebrated over here. Shhh... don't let Him know, but these days the Mister surely deserves a treat.
*
Hmmm... First there are the visions of years of corny advertisements, haunting my mind. Pieces, no, dollops of butter melting over that smoking hot bed. Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, it beckons and is promptly devoured with a eager grin.
.
Then the picture becomes clearer... Italian , smiling to me from inside the oven, smeared with olive oil, browning beautifully with a lovely do of black olives, chopped garlic and thinly sliced roma tomatoes sprinkled with fresh basil. Indecent.
.
All of a sudden the firm flesh of a thick, round, golden beauty catches my eye. In its mignon version, short and intriguing, it opens up. Inside lies a decadent slice of smoked turkey ham, topped with a poached egg lusciously dripping in bright yellow and instigating purple onion in delicate slices.
.
What is that smell? Is it Christmas morning? It must be, because that could only be... oh good lord, French Toast. Charming, delicious, sweet sweet French Toast covered only by a veil of honey.
.
... Why is food always flirting with me in my thoughts? And what is it with the bread?
.
Sigh... I love bread.
(Food porn found here)*
*
On another note, thanks to Mom and that Chicken soup (see previous post) I'm as fresh and dainty as a daisy again, so maybe tomorrow I'll do some Valentine baking. Even if its not actually celebrated over here. Shhh... don't let Him know, but these days the Mister surely deserves a treat.
*
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