The Cherpumple?

So, there I was, minding my own business. trying to bang through my Christmas post (which will be posted on Boxing Day, owing to some little contract I signed with some tiny, unheard of Public Broadcasting Company), when my cousin sends me off a little email commanding me to watch something.

Ever obedient, I watched. And I really think you should, too– all five of you who read me. There’s not so much to say about it, apart from the usual OMGs. One viewer has already beat me to the punch by stating that her version of the recipe wound up looking more like a Chernobyl cake than a Cherpumplethe dessert world’s answer to the Turduckhen (a dish I have always loathed and avoided).

I can’t wait to see what people will come up with next.

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About Michael Procopio

I write about food and am very fond of Edward Gorey. And gin.
This entry was posted in Stage, Film, and Television and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The Cherpumple?

  1. Deb says:

    OMFG! Who is this guy and why did he come up with this? I think I wanna b**rf right now!

    Merry Holidays, Michael!

  2. jodi says:

    uhm….actually, I’m trying to think of someplace I can go and bring this cake. My mom’s birthday, maybe? Next Thanksgiving? Just general New Year’s happiness on the table where everyone leaves their stuff and the servers come along and eat it?

    So cool. 🙂

  3. jodi says:

    oops. Merry Christmas!! (the glory of that cake had me all dizzy and I almost forgot)

  4. Sean says:

    Oh. Oh dear. Oh my dear. I haven’t decided yet. Is that just wrong, or so wrong it’s right on at least an ironic level? Should irony be that fattening? It does have enough preservatives and transfats to be ironic. So yes, I’m going to cast a vote for ironical delicousness.

  5. michaelprocopio says:

    Merry Holidays to you kids, too. And here’s to them being almost over!

    Sean– I cast my vote for satire. How could I not? It’s just a sweet response to the Turduckhen, which you yourself disdained when we were walking along the crowded stalls of the Fancy Food Show. What was it you said? Something about being unable to get behind any dish that started with the letters t-u-r-d?

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