Why the oven mitt? That plate is obviously not hot.


When I think “fluffy” I think of pretty air-spun cotton candy or freshly-washed baby lambs or a down-stuffed pillow on a cold winter’s night. I do not think of grimly-dressed sodden fish cups wearing boiled egg hats. There’s a thing called risk vs. reward and I doubt highly that this unspeakable meal is worth the nursing home/fart/Lake Michigan stench that will permeate your curtains like some horrid poltergeist who subsists solely on cabbage.


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