Promises In the Dark

I spent my day rolling out and refrigerating croissant dough, and I am bad at it. But I am going to practice, practice, practice until I bake things both tender and flaky and have biceps like a linebacker.

Go home, snow, you're drunk.

Stubborn snow is stubborn about leaving.

For the time being, our chickens will be the only ones in the neighborhood on the outside of pastry.

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