*truffle shuffle, part deux. a.k.a. bonbonus interruptus.

I know! You thought I mean "tune in tomorrow" as in "the next day." Clearly, you are unfamiliar with K time. Wherein fulfilling your panting expectation for dark chocolate deliciousness takes a backseat to playing Scrabble and watching J "hide" his bone in endless brilliant locations, including "in the middle of the floor" and "beside—not under—the chair."

Thursday night I came home and melted more chocolate over a double boiler, then dunked the refrigerated truffles in the thick richness. I had to work quickly, because the hot chocolate conspired to melt the truffles, so they could potentially look like I made truffles and then sat on them. Which I wouldn't put past me.

The recipe specifically said I should put the truffles in a 13- by 9- by 2-inch pan lined with foil, but I think next time I'll use parchment or wax paper. I didn't like how the foil gave the truffles little wrinkly bums.



Each one got a light dusting of kosher salt on top. Generic Woodside Grocery did not have any of this schmancy fleur de sel stuff.



The next morning, they all piled into a box for gifting.



Isn't morning light pretty? I should try to see more of it, as opposed to sneering at it from beneath the covers at some hour more appropriately referred to as "early afternoon."

And now, for the most important question of the day:

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE FOR ME LATELY?

Nothing, that's what. Guilt must compel you to address the following:

1. Vote for J! He's adorable, and we like to win things.

2. Vote for my lifestyle choices! (See poll to the right.) I became a vegetarian months ago to address the acid reflux. Which worked, for a time. Now it doesn't so much (turns out there's only so much not eating meat can do in the face of massive Cabernet consumption), and ... frankly ... I hate how limiting it feels. I'm all, oooh, YUM. Then I can't decide if I'm just an unimaginative wuss.

So you tell me. Weak-willed and intellectually lazy, or justifiably bored?

Be nice.