Miss Carol and me are fledgling little foodie virgins, flapping our damp wings in the big hugeness that is the FOOD TV’s sweetly smelling universe.
I mean, please, all those channels, all that food, all the time. It’s just flipping incredible- dreaming of those nubile meals sizzling softly on the horizon while you’re stuffing your face with lunch?
But what’s even more amazing for me is the verbiage, the words.
Like tonight, Miss Carol and me were watching something on a foodie channel while we ate dinner and a chef had made (prepared?) a squab tartine for some judges to judge.
I have no clue what that could be or what those words even mean, but I love them. Roll them off your tongue- squab tartine. Like, as in, ooh, honey, baby- how ’bout some squab tartine drizzled on your boobs? No?
What was really funny was the chef presented it solemnly and all the judges looked solemnly at this thing on their plates like they knew exactly what a squab tartine might be, instead of giggling and rocking back and forth, going, oh, please, you made those words up, right? c’mon stop, dude, you’re killin’ us.
But, hey, I was giggling.