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The most amazing day in all of history:
You think I'm going to talk about Obama, don't you? Well, even though that is wicked awesome, that is not what I'm referring to in my heading.
For you see, I live with a guy named H. He's pretty awesome. He treats me nice, makes good money, is funny, loyal, loving...all that good stuff. But one thing H does not do is cook. He simply lacks the cooking gene, he says. When I don't cook for him, he eats hot dogs, soup from cans, and cereal. H also does not clean the litterbox, but that is neither here nor there.
On my way home from work today, I got a call from H asking me if I was going to take a nap when I get home. I'm trying to stop taking naps, so I said no. He was bummed and asked me to make myself scarce so he could do something in the living room and that it might take as long as 2 hours. He was going to go to the store and buy something, then come home and make whatever it was. Never did I imagine that he would be cooking something, and I couldn't figure out how rewiring my speakers could possibly take two hours.
Fast forward to later, when he finally tells me I can come out and see whatever it is. I look all around the living room and don't see anything. Then I look at the dining table and see a cake. A chocolate, flourless cake. It's unmistakable. And I wonder if he had to heat it up after he bought it or something.
But no...
He made it from scratch, from a recipe we saw watching food network. this one, in fact.
He told me I had to be very, very honest about the cake. Luckily, it was delicious. I kind of thought it needed ice cream, it was so incredibly rich. That's when he did it.
He busted out some freshly whipped cream that he whipped himself, by hand with a wisk.
When I asked him what possessed him to take so much time and effort making a cake from scratch, he just looked at me.
"I love you." He said, as if the answer to my question was totally obvious.
Here it is, wrapped in plastic wrap:
For you see, I live with a guy named H. He's pretty awesome. He treats me nice, makes good money, is funny, loyal, loving...all that good stuff. But one thing H does not do is cook. He simply lacks the cooking gene, he says. When I don't cook for him, he eats hot dogs, soup from cans, and cereal. H also does not clean the litterbox, but that is neither here nor there.
On my way home from work today, I got a call from H asking me if I was going to take a nap when I get home. I'm trying to stop taking naps, so I said no. He was bummed and asked me to make myself scarce so he could do something in the living room and that it might take as long as 2 hours. He was going to go to the store and buy something, then come home and make whatever it was. Never did I imagine that he would be cooking something, and I couldn't figure out how rewiring my speakers could possibly take two hours.
Fast forward to later, when he finally tells me I can come out and see whatever it is. I look all around the living room and don't see anything. Then I look at the dining table and see a cake. A chocolate, flourless cake. It's unmistakable. And I wonder if he had to heat it up after he bought it or something.
But no...
He made it from scratch, from a recipe we saw watching food network. this one, in fact.
He told me I had to be very, very honest about the cake. Luckily, it was delicious. I kind of thought it needed ice cream, it was so incredibly rich. That's when he did it.
He busted out some freshly whipped cream that he whipped himself, by hand with a wisk.
When I asked him what possessed him to take so much time and effort making a cake from scratch, he just looked at me.
"I love you." He said, as if the answer to my question was totally obvious.
Here it is, wrapped in plastic wrap:
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That's so sweet.
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I mean, how'd I ever get so lucky?
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♥
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I'm damn lucky.
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What a wonderful guy you've got there. Although he didn't do to bad himself, know what I'm saying?
smooch!
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I'm pretty blown away by him sometimes.
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I almost cried myself...over a cake.
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:-[
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:-]
how delightful
It's beautiful.
To cook for someone means a lot to me, and to you, a chef at heart.... you deserve such wonderful-ness.
Re: how delightful
It was pretty damn cool...