Thursday, October 14, 2010

Food Porn Hotline: Episode 4

(The above image in no way represents me. Any possible resemblance to me is purely not coincidental, and very probably, forces beyond my control have conspired to render me in this unflattering fashion, and you can bet that the Trilateral commission and maybe the Rothschilds had something to do with it. Seriously.)

The original story was about MTV suggesting that its employees might want to show up to the Stewart-Colbert Restoring Sanity show, but somehow, we just lost track of the topic.

TrooBloo99: Everyone I've known who has worked for MTV says the same thing: That it's a sweatshop.
Alric_IV: Just about all work environments are sweatshops. That's why we're in the economic mess we're in.

This is all followed by a number of yada yada comments, and then I chime in:

Jewel: I work in a bakery. It is hot. Ovens are hot. I sweat. I love it. Best job I ever had. Care for a sticky bun?
Alric_IV: Oh, God. A bakery. The smells alone would make me delirious, and I'd be salivated all over the goods. At our Winn-Dixie, they back bread fresh every day, and when I walk in, I can smell it. It's almost like the scent crooks a graceful finger, like in a cartoon, and leads me by the nose right to the source. The bread is still warm, and when I put it in the car, it wafts through the interior and I have to tear off a piece right then and there. It got me to thinking that the smell of bread is probably a primal genetic memory. The pleasure is just too intense. 
Jewel: Not only is it hot in the bakery, and the air is heavy with the perfume of butter and vanilla and chocolate, not only do I go home smelling of yeast and Vietnamese cinnamon, but my hands are softened by the constant massage of butter into dough, and from brushing it onto steaming, flaky croissants. Our bakery also makes a lot of different kinds of coffees and teas, so the air just swirls with intoxicating aromas, and in the morning, there is an underlying grace note of slow cooked steel cut oatmeal, which cooks up into a light and fluffy cloud onto which customers sprinkle brown sugar and cinnamon.
The bakery is but one aspect of this family-owned emporium of delicacies. But they smoke their own bacon, Alric. Their. own. bacon. Have you ever tasted home made bacon? Cut thick, and smoked over hickory wood? And hams, Alric. The hams would send a Dane into madness with craving and envy.
Yes. It's a sweat shop. A most delightful sweat shop.This has been your food porn moment of the day.
Alric_IV: Oh, my. (gulp) T-t-thank you for that.
Jewel:  Anything I can do to help, Alric. Would you like me to eat a cookie for you, too? 


Alric, welcome to the Tasty Infidelicacies Café of Bliss. I welcome all kinds of people, regardless of political persuasions, race, creed or sexual disorientation(s). This blog is about conversation. I don't tolerate hackneyed clichés, because it provokes the mirthful side of mockery in me, so if you would like to post something, I only ask that you be honest in what you believe and defend it for all its worth. And be as funny as you are at Big Hollywood!

No comments:

Post a Comment

Don't just sit there, say something!