Speaking from the point of view of someone who has 40+ years of hospital food under my belt. (pun? intended). Your hot brown looks like a gift from heaven. The dietitian would shriek bloody murder, but who cares. Well done to you both!
Oh as a life long pet lover my self... You have inadvertently eaten the equivalent of several cats or one medium dog worth of hair sir. I could describe a way to determine how much feline DNA you have incorporated in your body, but the specimen collection procedure would be too unpleasant.
This is easily the saddest most pathetic paragraph you've ever written and that's saying a lot:
"Also that weird Stormtrooper-looking glove in front of the oven is in fact my oven glove. And yes, it’s supposed to look like a Stormtrooper glove, since it’s an officially licensed piece of Star Wars gear. It’s also the worst oven glove I’ve ever owned. Davida hates that fucking thing."
Wow. I can't shake this sense that somewhere along the way Davida must have had exposure to actual Hot Browns, resulting in some kind of subliminal knowledge?
Maybe Davida posesses a paranormal gift. The matchup between the Hot Brown speculation and the actuality is uncanny.
Speaking from the point of view of someone who has 40+ years of hospital food under my belt. (pun? intended). Your hot brown looks like a gift from heaven. The dietitian would shriek bloody murder, but who cares. Well done to you both!
Oh as a life long pet lover my self... You have inadvertently eaten the equivalent of several cats or one medium dog worth of hair sir. I could describe a way to determine how much feline DNA you have incorporated in your body, but the specimen collection procedure would be too unpleasant.
Good day to you and the better half.
"So today, clowns, I present to you not just a Hot Brown, but a “Hot Brown” as conceived by someone who doesn’t actually know what one is.
Maybe we’ll call this one the Chicago Hot Brown or something."
I'd call it the Hot Clown.
This is easily the saddest most pathetic paragraph you've ever written and that's saying a lot:
"Also that weird Stormtrooper-looking glove in front of the oven is in fact my oven glove. And yes, it’s supposed to look like a Stormtrooper glove, since it’s an officially licensed piece of Star Wars gear. It’s also the worst oven glove I’ve ever owned. Davida hates that fucking thing."
Anything tastes good if you add enough gravy.
Wow. I can't shake this sense that somewhere along the way Davida must have had exposure to actual Hot Browns, resulting in some kind of subliminal knowledge?
Maybe Davida posesses a paranormal gift. The matchup between the Hot Brown speculation and the actuality is uncanny.
Forget it, Jake. It’s Hot Brown Town!
I lived in Louisville for a couple years and became a damn Hot Brown fiend. Never been brave enough to try it in my kitchen. Well done. 👏
You should do a whole series of these, with Davida describing her version of an unseen local specialty. It would be awesome.