A piece of my house is dancing merrily down the road and I wonder if I should chase after it, but that would mean I’d have to put down the piece of cake I’m eating.   There’s a certain kind of buttery icing that melts my heart, sets my teeth to tingling, and rivals sex. It tends toward the creamy side, rather than the sweet, and you just know that if a drop of it spills on your clothing it will leave a grease mark that will never come out.   After … [Read more...]