Brunch:
My lady ordered the very pretty quiche Loraine. At first we thought maybe we would split our dishes between the two of us, unfortunately, I wasn't wearing my dress that Sunday morning to be able to legitimately eat something called "quiche" and feel like a man about it. Although, I did manage to bum a few bites though; manly bites... while growing chest hair, changing a flat tire and storing a pack of cigarettes in a stab wound.
The quiche was filled with bacon and floating clouds of cheese that deflated at each bite in the creamy eggs that were next to custard. All bound together with a buttery crust whose flakes found the corners of our mouthes as little reminders of pastry pleasantries for later consumption... OMG, the quiche effect is taking its toll on my writing. HOCKEY, JACKHAMMERS and CHAINSAWS. The omelette pie was sided with a lightly dressed toss of watercress, parsley, shaved cucumbers and dill whose pepper notes cut through the richness.