desecration

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Every Christmas, I bake loaves of kolachi for a few folks. Kolachi is a Polish pastry; the recipe is my immigrant grandmother's. You slice its loaves into one-inch slices, each of which is a spiral of dough, pecans, sugar, butter, and cinnamon. I tell you this so that you can be properly horrified by the following.

Sarah told me last night that she likes her kolachi best when covered by a fried egg, its runny yoke oozing into the pecans, cinnamon, etc. Positively vomitous. And I thought Sue was weird for putting hers in a toaster.

Grandma is spinning like a lathe.