Saturday, November 26, 2005

What the Hell Is a Souffle?
Posted by Sam at 3:58 PM | tags:

Fine fine fine. I'll blog about Thanksgiving. Every blogger this side of the Grand Wallingford Galactic Tool Emporium has something to say about Thanksgiving. So... me too!

As stated one year prior, turkey doesn't do it for me. I just can't get excited about a giant bloated bird carcass steaming patiently on the Thanksgiving table. I know, I know... that contradicts everything you know about me thus far. Typically, my fondness for the carcass has no peer. But... well, birds are icky! Gross! Blech! Anyway, what did do it for me this year was a goopy mound of sugary bliss disguised as a side dish. It was made with love by my amazing pal, former housemate, and comrade in the war on romance: Sarah. It was called sweet potato souffle. I have no idea what a souffle is. Nor do I care. What I do know is that it was smothered in butter, sugar, marshmallow, and yes, love (in the purely non-tangible sense, of course). The souffle was overflowing with pure melted liquid awesome (no, not Jagermeister). Mmm... marshmallow... I could eat sweet potato souffle every day for the rest of my life... which, if I did, would probably only amount to a couple of days... a couple of sugar-coated, euphoria-filled days. But alas, only a couple of them. Honestly though, it might be worth it.

Comments: 2 | Post a Comment | Permalink

ok, now i'm all for sweet potatoes...but something you mentioned about marshmallow really frightens me.

Comment By bryan on November 27, 2005 10:36 AM

Ah yes... I think I see what you're getting at here. I revised slightly. Better?

All the sugar must have begun to take its toll on my brain.

Comment By Sam on November 27, 2005 1:53 PM

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Sam Who!?
Sam is an amazing and humble guy. Once, he rushed into a burning building, up six flights of stairs to save a kitten from certain death. He speaks eight languages, has mastered three varieties of martial arts, is a wine expert, and is a pulitzer prize winning author. Sam is an international heart-throb who prefers a quiet evening at home knitting afghans for the homeless, to the go-go, glitz and glamor of the party scene. I think the day he won the silver medal for ballroom dancing at the 98 olympics was the happiest of his life. Pretty impressive for a guy who never finished the 8th grade. - Carrie, 04
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