Saturday, September 3, 2011

I sense a pattern here...

Saturday morning. Mr.Q is out buying cat food so they don't eat us in our sleep, the greedy beasts. I have the place to myself, and can do anything I want. Anything. Secret things, all juicy and luscious. 

Like this!

French bread, lightly toasted; a thin slip of mayo, some 1-year-old white cheddar, and thick, messy slices of a "black" tomato the size of a baby's head. Dust it all with a hint of fresh-ground sea salt. Let eyes roll back into head while eating, to enhance the experience. Consider hiding the other half of the tomato, for a repeat performance tomorrow. 

(Hey, I shared the pear, didn't I?)

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