Easy on Sunday Morning

Puff pastry is fantastic. Despite the butter content—I don't have to eat them, btw, as I enjoy making them equally as well—I love the no-yeast hassle factor, which deletes a variable that could absolutely screw one up. I also think I could make it at home.

The single mother chocolatier was absent yesterday, and for the next two weeks, we're going to be having a sub. Chef Nola has to move next weekend—I guess the lattice-top peach pie did not mend fences for her and her landlord—and the following weekend, she's going to a conference. In her place, leading the class—can you say eclairs?—will be Chef Steve and Chef Someone Else.

Imagine if, when talking about someone, you had to modify their name with their profession each time: "Student D.J. got mad when I gave away almost all the palmiers," or "Comedian C. Rock did not appreciate it when I blurted out that his hands looked much bigger on television than in person," (true story), etc. That format seems excessive, and a maybe a bit T.M.I. The label "President Obama" works, as does "First Lady Michelle," though I believe there's more to her than that. And while it might be appropriate in some cases, this kind of identification could inevitably lead to confusion. Sister Beth, for example. (She is no Catholic, or nun.) Or B.S. Artist Luc (actually, that works), or Big Brother Bush (though that works, too).

In any event, single mother, multi-tasking, smut copy editor, wannabe lover (though I'm sure there's more to me than that), must now go pick up about-to-be-12-years-old D.J. from her BFF's family's Catholic church.