Window shopping should be classified under a form of lust. Because that is what it is, no? It’s just walking by glass windows, coveting mightily, all the things your salary won’t let you afford.
I am bad at cooking flat things. This includes chapatis (whose disastrous encounters you can read here), pancakes, omelettes…I just can’t get the hang of the flip. Preparation I have down. Just not the execution to the end.
To make said yummy omelette, I went to Tuskys. The reason the Tuskys at T Mall wins is because it has no costs for parking, as well as a variety of restaurants and a nice club (with fantastic fries. Is there anything better than Psys fries at the rave? Or after it?).
But what really wins is Tuskys bread.
The good Lord above deemed it fit to declare that in the midst of the blackness that is this world, in the quagmire of confusion that is (driving) in Nairobi…across the vast desert of singlehood and mid-20s poverty, a blessing, a shining light, a DANIEL! in the blistering heat, is Tuskys loaf.
Nothing compares to this doughy delight. Always fresh. Like the perfect boyfriend – never lets you down, doesn’t talk back, warm and tender, pliant…holds you when you want to be held, stuffs you when you want to be stuffed…hehe.
ANYhue. The point is. The omelette was forgotten. Every loaf at Tuskys is a chunk of heaven. Don’t even get me started on their vanilla muffins. O_______O #foodComa
May I one day be worthy to create something so perfect with these two hands, and may I be able to handle the honour.