It’s no secret over here at Nobody Puts Baby in a Horner that I love me some Paula Deen like Paula Deen loves herself some butter. And while my holiday plans to visit my deep-fried mecca (The Lady and Sons) were ultimately foiled (curses to you, unnecessarily convoluted and ambiguous process by which one ensures a table at the Lady and Sons!), she remains the Julia to my Julie. Sure, I may not be blogging about my experience cooking Paula Deen’s recipe oeuvre (I lack the requisite ambition/willingness to have a coronary before I’m 30), but I will gladly blog about this:
Sure, it may not be playing an instrumental role in bringing French cuisine into the American household, but Paula Deen once had really hot guys in tight shirts deliver her a giant bust made ENTIRELY OUT OF BUTTER. AND THEN SHE KISSED IT. Et tu, Mrs. Child?
Also, only Paula Deen is capable of the following culinary crazy train:
