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…Aaaannnnnnd this is why I’m fat.

July 30, 2011

Did I mention that Punk is a chef? He’s owned/run his own restaurant (The North End) for over 20 years. There’s almost nothing he doesn’t know how to cook, and cook wonderfully – and I’ve benefitted/suffered because of it. So this morning, as I’m finishing walking on the treadmill (walking off last night’s delicious BLT’s), he sticks his head in and says “I feel like making something.” This is a common sentence in our home. When I say it, you know there’s a pitcher of cocktails in our immediate future. When Punk says it, something tasty (and usually sweet) is on the horizon.

Are they as good as they look? Fuck yeah.

This mornings concoction? Cupcakes. Not just cupcakes, but Key Lime Curd Filled Lemon Cupcakes with an Italian Buttercream Frosting. I came downstairs to see the kitchen aid whirring, and Punk boiling the sugar for the Italian buttercream. I’ve been with him long enough to know that “You are insane” is not the thing to say when he’s in a baking mood. Because do the two of us really need 2 dozen cupcakes? If I mention that, he will inevitably respond with “You didn’t get that way from looking at it, douchebag.”

Here’s the thing. He’s used to cooking “restaurant scale”. I’m not sure if he’s even capable of cooking for two anymore. A Pasta dinner for the two of us will involve a pound of pasta, a dozen or so meatballs and a full loaf of Italian bread. During the week, I’m a hero at work for the amount of leftovers I bring in.

So yes, I blame my husband for the 40 pounds of weight I need to lose. If he was a shitty chef, I’d be much thinner. But then again, if he was a shitty chef, I wouldn’t be noshing on this fucking awesome cupcake right now, trying to decide just what cocktail would best complement them…

 

Edit: After much experimentation, it was determined that Cosmos were the best complement. But then again, I say that to a lot of things.

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