My former flatmate and good friend Harriet had me to stay in Wellington, and on the foulest, greyest, rainiest, blustiest Saturday, we did nothing but mooch around, pat the cat, talk smack, and daydream about European adventures. Well, I did nothing but that. Harriet made me afghans. She was explaining that since we'd moved out of our Aro Valley henhouse, she'd become quite the DG (domestic goddess, not to be confused with urban dictionary's definition "dirty girl").
Sandwiched between cookie and icing, therein she slips a chocolate melt, like a giant chocolate button. Behold three textures of chocolate in one bite! Incredible, just like her.
Anyone who will bake me cookies (or cupcakes!), make me a cup of tea, listen to my woes of newfound love and offer to melt my frozen heart with her hairdryer is a true friend indeed.