Frenzied Daddy

Miss K requested a chocolate cake, with white frosting and red trim. And roses; she wants roses like she sees on the Dairy Queen posters. You know, those little fondant jobbies.

This coming-home-late’s got my schedule all frickenfracked and I’m starting to freak out about her birthday cake. Of course we want it to be delicious. So I stopped at the Tulip Bakery to place her order. The doors right in the front were locked, but the ones next to them were open. I went in and ordered her cake, and it’ll be ready Saturday.

I wonder why the claim check says Tre Bone…

Who is the genius who, when given a demitasse of delicious, pungent espresso with a sweet fluffy crema, passed over the steamed milk, passed over the cream, passed over the chocolate, passed over the lemon zest and decided to dump tap water into it?

And call it “American,” ok, Americano.

Great; a watery espresso…the only kind of person who would drink a watery espresso would be an American? I hate americanoes. Give me either the drip coffee or the straight espresso. If you must dilute the espresso, use ice; it’s the same thing, but cold, and so easier for me to wrap my brain around.

And to add injury to insult, most places, including Starbucks, screw up the ratio and make truly watery coffee. It’s pathetic. Although I will admit that a large coffee at Dutch Brothers is almost palatable; four shots of espresso in a 24 oz cup, filled with water. It almost takes like coffee. But still. Bleah.

Don’t insult me with an Americano. I’d rather drink coffee from seven-eleven.

Are yummy delicious blueberries still considered healthful when baked with …brown sugar, oats and butter and served with vanilla ice cream?