I’m not too fond of chocolate mousse,
— though I’m not sure why, exactly.
Perhaps it has to do with its contrived
airiness, or its gaudy price tag coupled with
a truly pretentious name.
In fact, now that I think about it, the stuff
reminds me of a tanned Paris Hilton spooned
into some fancy stemmed dessert glass—only
without the promise of sloppy drunken sex
easily saved to my hard drive.
Just learn to make your own Ganache, and your chocolate mousse problems are solved.
Alton Brown’s Chocolate Ganache:
3 tablespoons corn syrup
6 ounces heavy cream
12 ounces dark chocolate, chopped into small pieces
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
In a small saucepan combine the corn syrup and heavy cream. Bring to a simmer and add the chocolate. Stir until smooth. Remove from the heat and add the vanilla extract.
Yum
easily saved to my hard drive.
So now the true purpose of your hard drive server farm becomes known to the world.
Me? Not too fond of fondue.
Or, heck
Make your own mousse for a fraction of the cost.
If you’re going to come back as a light-comic poet of domestic repression, I have a feeling that a certain segment of your readership might feel betrayed by your turn away from the beloved “garrulous pottymouth / drug-addled shut-in / failed academic / Zionazi warmonger” character and lash out in the comments with an infinite torrent of mascarpone and brandied apricot shortcake recipes twisted into Wordsworthian odes to necro-bukakke.
This is just a feeling, mind you.
It could be gay necro-bukakke.
(Paris Hilton is orange.)
Chocolate mousse at least tastes like something. WTF is the point of mayonnaise?
Any chance of an example BoZ?
Indeed. That about eliminates the very reason for being of Paris Hilton…
Jeff,
Enough about Paris Hilton and her bush-wacked
fire crotch. When it comes to drunken sloppy sex, she can’t hold a candle to Anna Nichole (who’s long overdue, btw, to share some holiday cheer with your dedicated PW readers).
Frankly, I’d accept a handjob from Helen Thomas before I’d ever dip my wick into that syphalitic
gash of Paris Hilton’s. I mean, you gotta draw the line somewhere…..
If you’re not gonna eat that mousse…can I have it? It’ll look good mounted above the fireplace mantel.
You need it to make Thousand Island dressing for Rueben sandwiches.
Though Paris is clearly a tart,
and truthfully, not very smart,
she’s built a career,
on flashing her rear,
and spreading her slim legs apart.
And when’s she’s not at the gym,
or giving her hoohah a trim,
she’ll give us a flash
of her naked gash,
now Jeff’s hard drive is filled to the brim.
heybishes….gatacuma mama vvasty…..ilfloatchrboat
“Indeed. That about eliminates the very reason for being of Paris Hilton…”
Yes MJ,
That and the 3 Peniciilan shots you’ll need to drive away that nagging drip…..
Me neither, Jeff. It makes my hair sticky, and then there’s the ant & fly problem.
The less said about that, the better.
MMmmmelted chocolate
folded into Redi-Whip!
Want to lick the spoon?
Yeah, easy to save, impossible to get rid of.
Be careful out there.
Yeah, I never got the ganache thing, either. Mom used to call it chocolate frosting.