“We were born to strudel!”
Stella wrote “Cheech!” and we hoped for the best.
Flatbread is the Ocean’s 8 of bread.
You don’t want to know how much butter is in brioche.
“I’m going to go through all of the stages of grief, but not in the right order,” A warned me as we went in to see Hillary Clinton. “So good luck.”
It’s just flour and water and onions and magic.
Out of nowhere, Tiffany screamed, “DON’T EAT THAT!”