First, Evil Chef Mom has made the malted milk ice cream I posted last week.
Her post is way more inspired than mine, with all kinds of photos depicting "Whoppercide". You can see her take out her anger on some poor unsuspecting malted milk balls. "Bludegeoning" is a word that comes to mind. "Lunatic" is another, but I'm not sure why that one popped into my head.
She also went on and on about raccoons, although I'm not exactly sure why. Weirdly, the raccoon thing actually makes sense.
Anyway, Evil Chef Mom is wielding a hammer. Those poor malted milk balls, they did absolutely nothing to offend her, but just because they look all brown and ball-like and taste like little pieces of orgasm, she pounded the crap out of 'em. Evil Chef Mom is definately a bitch.
Poor little malted milk balls. You've seen the crazy close up and didn't live to tell the tale.
Now for you readers, who've never heard of Dibs and wondered what the hell I was talking about last post...
Dibs are these little hunks of ice cream covered in chocolate, like an ice cream sandwich only the size of a malted milk ball actually and you kind of pop them in your mouth. They are so small they make a good little treat that isn't a whole appetite-sucking ice cream cone.
The catch is, they are so utterly addictive, you can eat, like, all 60 of them in a single sitting. They are ridiculously good. And the fact that I shouldn't eat them just makes me feel all decadent, tingly and rebellious in my nether regions. And that makes me wanna eat more.
Yes, they have corn syrup in them, so if you are vigilant about making sure there is no corn syrup in your cupboards, you will have to pass on the Dibs, but if you feel like breaking a rule and going off-book for a special occasion, Dibs rock the house.
If I endeavored to make the home made ice cream version of Dibs, I'm sure they'd be absolutely off the hook. (Can you say "off the hook" when you're middle age?)
Hmmmmmm...Maybe I should make Dibs with home-made ice cream...What do ya think?