Dearly Beloved took me out for Mother’s Day lunch.
It was a buffet. A very fancy buffet. The problem with fancy buffets is that I feel I must eat enough to justify the price. Being of English ancestry, I pay for it in pounds.
Dearly Beloved eats like Jack Spratt, no matter where he is. No fat. After salads and a main course plate that would make Dr. Weill nod approvingly, he sat back contentedly, ready to leave.
There was an entire room filled with desserts. No way could I leave without having dessert. Call me Mrs. Spratt.
Even so, I passed an assortment cheesecakes, pies, tarts, triple chocolate cakes, cookies, truffles, and other tempting morsels. I realized after I returned to our table that I hadn’t selected anything chocolate. Dang!
WAIT! That’s not just a regular old cookie, is it? That’s a brownie cookie with an oozing chocolate center. I missed those.
Mind if I have a bite?