I've gone through lots of desserts these days: the ridiculously delectable list of french goods to simple american. I've gone through the list again and again: Flan au caramel, with its rich smokey liquidy caramel at the bottom; the tartness of cherry pie; the warm cinnamon nutmeg spell of pumpkin pie; the flaky crisp layers of mille feuille.
I found you rethrown in my direction, and to think I almost forgot about the things that i like about you.
I like the way you're tough to crack on the surface, but then smooth underneath. The way the crisp layer of sugar is bitter, and then everso sweet. I like you inside and out, and this time... hopefully I've cracked through.
You're that type, that everyone likes. That one that everyone is always in line for, whispering great things about. Occassionally, you run into that person that just doesn't get it. They just don't get you.
But I get you.
So bring on the crowds, bring on the lines. Bring on the people who think they know.
Because honey, I don't think. I know.
You might be creme de la creme, but no one knows it better than this connoisseur.
