All week the wife has been wondering when I was going to tell you all about her pumpkin bread. I was supposed to write an entire post dedicated to it, complete with action shots of the pureed pumpkin getting mixed up in the bowl. At the very least, I could have taken a picture of the loaf coming out piping hot from the oven. I did none of it. I suck. But there is the picture I nabbed off her Facebook page where it got approximately 70000000 likes and worships.
So now I’m writing this post to tell you she makes the best pumpkin bread. It tastes like the entire month of October, a little bit of late November, and the first virgin snowflake of December in your mouth. It smells like a thousand Yankee Candles burning directly in your nostrils—which sounds disturbing but is, in fact, euphoric. The experience of eating it is akin to jumping on cloud trampolines in heaven while holding hands with Jesus and Elvis.
If I didn’t have the wife, I would be forced to eat pre-packaged seasonal desserts that taste like big plates of sad, forcing me to continuously confront the full extent of my own human loneliness.
These things suck. They don’t taste like pumpkin or cheesecake. Really, they’re bad. They taste like dense, wet balls of corn syrup. If my wife’s pumpkin bread got into a fight with these pumpkin cheesecake cookies, the pumpkin bread would crush them mercilessly with one punch to their gasping, chicken-neck throat.
Also, they’re “soft dessert cookies.” As opposed to dinner cookies. Dinner cookies really should exist though. Anyway, these cookies are engineered to stay soft like they just came out of the oven, but instead it just gives them a weird chemical soppiness. My wife’s pumpkin bread stays soft like tissues on top of pillows on top of cotton balls on top of just born baby bunnies. And all she has to do is wrap it in foil.
Not pumpkin, but caramel apple Toaster Strudels also suck. Did I mention the wife also makes a mean apple pie from individually hand-picked local farm apples and homemade puff pastry with a dash of cinnamon sourced from deciduous forests of Madagascar?
I might have exaggerated that last one a little bit. But she did make an apple pie once, and it was pretty bangin’.
Heating Toaster Strudels evenly is maddening. Remember that commercial from the 1980s where Toaster Strudels acted like they were the superior breakfast bullshit because they weren’t “cardboard” like Pop Tarts? I beg to differ. Pop Tarts at least work in the toaster. I’m convinced Toaster Strudels are made with a heat-proof Teflon shield to prevent the precious apple innards from fully thawing.
And I’m always sort of perplexed by the frosting packet. How does it keep from freezing solid in the freezer? Like does it have antifreeze in it?
Don’t answer that.
If Toaster Strudels got into a fight with Pop Tarts, it would run away crying before the fight even started. And if Toaster Strudels got into a fight with my wife’s pumpkin bread, it would implode into itself so hard it would disappear, leaving behind only a pathetic greasy trail of flaky layers and tears. *Drops the mic.*