Oh Napoleon. You tyranical dictator you. Of COURSE they named a complex after you.
And I'm not saying that they also named a dessert after you. But maybe if you had a little more puff pastry and salted caramel cream in your life, you wouldn't have been such an a-hole.
This was my final course that fateful night at Jules Vernes. At least I thought it was. I completely forgot that in traditional French fashion, dessert comes with a side of, what? Dessert. Enter, the cookie bites.
And the homemade marshmallows.
Yes, I know they look like pats of butter. But I promise, they're marshmallows. I might be an occasional glutton, but I'm not trying to have an aortic aneurysm.
Oh Jules...I can call you Jules, now right? I mean, I'd hope we're on a first name basis now. Especially since I have to tell you something kind of personal. It's just that... Well... In case I don't see you again for a little while, I just wanted you to know....I'm in love with you.
A bientot!
-Monica
No comments:
Post a Comment