every time. every time I say I can’t stand tomatoes someone emerges from the mist to offer me an heirloom cherry tomato from their garden. “It’s good. It’s sweet. You’ll like it,” they wail and wail. my attempts to deflect them with no thank yous and jokes about them being close relatives of deadly nightshade to no avail. they continue to attempt o force the round orbs upon me. I give in to their plea and take a bite. “It’s ok I guess,” I whimper as my eyes water and I struggle not to gag on the sour, mushy, hell fruit.
Try a heirloom cherry tomato from my garden. It’s good and sweet and you’ll like it
I love it when I click on a recipe link because it sounds yummy and instead of a recipe I get a several page dissertation on a food blogger’s boredom with her marriage and lies she was told in childhood
this ending in a recipe literally changed my fucking life i thought i was being spread some fucking truisms abt the ugliness of marriage but it was literally a preamble to creme brulee brownies. writing is fake
There’s no such thing as “pepperoni” in Italy, even though it is a corruption of the Italian word “peperoni” (sweet peppers). The most similar Italian food is “salame piccante” (spicy salami).
Then how do i order a pepperoni and pineapple pizza next time I’m in Italy?
@tedywestside your pepperoni pizza is “pizza con salame piccante” and pinapple pizza is “ho bisogno di andare in chiesa a confessare i miei peccati pizza”
i'm very gay. i'd like a few dollars. 