Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of you is porn. So what’s so offensive about root vegetables with freakishly humanoid genitalia? That fucking carrot caused my readership to plummet like a sackful of kittens tied to a cinder block. SUCK IT UP, INTERNET.
My challenge to the rest of you: send the carrot far and wide! Let all behold the wonders of mother nature!
I think you all should know that I just saw a commercial for Pizza Hut’s new product, the “PANnormous Pizza.” Which leads me to believe that there is some kind of law of thermodynamics stating that as Apple devices grow ever smaller, franchise pizza products must grow proportionally larger.*
None of that has anything to do with these warm lemon pudding cakes from Baking at Home with The Culinary Institute of America. Which apparently would rather have you pay $30,000 to attend their baking and pastry program than actually bake at home, because this recipe? Kind of sucked.
*Exhibit B: The “Pizzone”
Tune in tonight as the cheftestants attempt to not destroy Gail’s bridal shower. Way to get yourself a freebie there, Simmons. I’m sure everything will turn out fine.
See you after the jump!
Get out your flutes and your bubbly, it’s hors d’oeurvres time! (Look out for a flute roundup this week to make your swanktastic party complete.)
Without further a-dew, your roundup:
This carrot is not safe for work.
Seriously, it’s not.
You can’t go wrong with the Barefoot Contessa, you just can’t; and that Charlie Palmer can whip up a mean citrusy Asian sauce.
Unfortunately, you can go hella wrong with bipolar disorder. You may have noticed a lack of recipe posts and an upswing in bullshitty posts, and it’s because things are just weird and unstable around here. Y’all are awesome for getting into the non-foodie posts too, but don’t think I haven’t noticed and don’t want things to get back to normal around here.
Tonight is not the night that will happen, though: it’s late, and actively working to be sane all day is tiring work. So I give you lemon chicken with peanut satay sauce and shrimp tempura with sweet citrus chile dipping sauce in pictures, and an IOU for the words (And I’m no welcher).
Are you ready for Rocco DiSpirito and his frozen-Italian-food-shilling, preternaturally smooth and unlined face? I’m not! But join me here anyway.