my dear friend gillian,
you and i must break up. it's true, i'm afraid our friendship must come to an end. and it's not because i don't love you. au contraire....i love you dearly. but being the foodie extraordinaire that you are, you have shown me your vile ways and now i can't seem to live without them.
like the onion dip? yes, it is evil. and although it was technically your mother that first enticed me to that wonderfully creamy, hot, bubbly vidalia onion decadence, it never would've happened had i not been at your house. the house of bad things as i have now affectionately deemed it.
and let's talk about those crab rangoons at the lotus that you introduced me to just this week. fried joy is what you call it as i remember. me? i call it fried sinful from the devil himself. and yes, that is a picture of my hand holding a fried sinful because i couldn't wait to get back to lotus to satiate my newly developed addiction to this bad bad thing for the second time this week.
and so, the time has come for us to part. i will miss you.
hugs and kissies,
dawn
ps can you give me the recipe for that tortilla soup with the sour cream topping that makes me smile for days after eating?
3 comments:
Um, do WE have to break up? Cause my hips were never quite the same after a run-in with your gram's Swedish apple pie. . .and your mom's cranberry-orange bread. . .oh, and your dadgum potato salad!
i'll give you the vidalia onion dip recipe if you don't break up with me :)
NO! Don't give it to me--please, please. OK, yeah, baby, you know I want it.
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