Saturday, August 8, 2009

A Single Cookie

American consumers prefer quantity to quality most of the time. I am one of these people, but thankfully it is usually only about 5% of the time.

Welcome a little French wonder, a Raspberry Jam cookie. Single on the plate and full of so much more than any bulk-made package.

Ren and I went to a little French bakery near my house called Café Croissant. It is no frills, like the ones I saw while in Paris and Brussels with all the talent in the food. This single cookie sang Edith to me and I had to devour it.

No wonder the French are so lustful. A bit erotic in its shape and yet to lick the center seemed risque. Instead I nibbled on the outer edges making sure to not breath and eat or disturb the powdered sugar. If a man were to eat this as sensually as I did and I were to spy him doing so, there would be a matter he would have to settle before he finished. (Think of it like a girl eating a popsicle or a banana.)
And one was all I needed. Like great sex, the perfect round and satisfying orgasm is better than those little half-ass ones anytime.
C'est la Vie!

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