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I consider the picture below to be solid proof that, with the right ingredients, a full day, and a magnum of red wine, I can cook damn near anything.

You're motherfucking right I made croissants.

For those of you who aren’t amateur home bakers or cooks, making croissants from scratch is like summiting Everest or unlocking Arcologies in SimCity 2000:* it takes an obscene amount of time and preperation,** it’s temperamental, it’s certainly pointless, and yet those who do it are unbearably smug about it. Well, here’s my smug: croissants, bitches!

Plus, the two on the far left are stuffed with rosemary ham and cheddar cheese.*** They’re gone, and R is very sad that there are not more. When I told him I had eighteen more of the plain ones hidden away in the freezer, he said the one phrase that reinforced the fact that I have indeed found my life partner: “We’re going to need a hell of a lot of Nutella.”

You’re damned right we will, honey.

* Oh yes I did.
** ELEVEN HOURS START TO FINISH, JESUS CHRIST. Not all active, thankfully, but the longest break I got was about an hour and a half. However, worth it.
*** Because when I see a pastry essentially made of butter, what I think is “Gee, this could really use some more saturated fat.” Southern, y’all.****
**** [Insert Paula Deen joke here]