Don’t Truffle With Me

Oh, boy, mama is really causing some action around here.  I smell that chocolate melting and I sort of sidle into the kitchen and look completely uninterested, take a little bath, look out the window at the garden, you know the drill, but I am FULLY aware of melting chocolate and cream and know that fairly soon, there will be little balls of that stuff that papa will have for dessert with a little glass of something I don’t care for, but when he’s finished with, say, three little balls of goodness, he always leaves a smidgeon on the plate (whatever smidgeon is) and I am right there to help clean up.

Mama says that when you use only two bars of chocolate for SEVENTY truffles, you’re not eating many calories if you eat, say, two or three, or even four, and so that blows the myth that truffles are fattening and not good for you, too rich and so on.

But what’s really fun is that mama’s hand looks like this while she’s making them.

And even though she washes most of it off and leaves me only a tiny lick, I still love Truffle Day in The Kitchen.

I’m sure I’ve said this before, but nobody know the truffles I’ve seen (groan).

Off to clean up the plate…

(Don’t worry, I know that chocolate is NOT good for doggies or kitties, but one little lick never hurt me.)

It’s cleaning up AFTERWARDS that’s a pain in the paw!