She was a smokin' hot babe. Er… dish.
Savory egg filling. Legs a mile long. A real hot potato.
Er … filled with potato.
And herbs, cheese. A melt in your mouth kind of beauty.
She got me fueled up for the day, and we had that long, slow burn that just sticks with you.
I never went hungry when she was around.
I'm not the jealous type, either. But when she was on my plate … I finished every last bite. No point in sharing a dish this good.
Quiche? Not for a real man. But frittata?
Well, I'm no sexpert, but Rome could give Paris a run for its money romance-wise. And this Italian dish? Frittata? Always the way I want to start my day…
This article appears in Jul 1-7, 2009.