Last night my wife decided (at around 9 PM) to make homemade buttermilk biscuits for next morning’s breakfast. I suggested she add some wonderful Canadian Armstrong cheddar…which she did. They were ready by 10 PM, and in the irritatingly disciplined manner of the naturally thin person, she brought out two of the steaming beauties as a bedtime snack. To say they were delicious would be an understatement, especially warm from the oven as they were. On my way to bed, I sneaked into the kitchen and quickly wolfed down four more!

Which reminds me of my mother’s comment when I once brought her a fresh artisanal bread stuffed with Gruyere and lardons (French bacon). She took a few bites, rolled her eyes in appreciation, and stuck in the shiv: “My God, that’s fantastic”, she said. “But with things this good, how can your ass not become the size of a Saratoga trunk?”.

P.S.

Wife’s comment on reading my post this morning: “Puh, you picked the ugliest ones to photograph!”.

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