“Pru and I had tried to make the Honey Surprise a hundred times at home, until we'd perfected the art of French toast and the perfect golden-crisp pancake, but nothing prepared me for the fluffiness, the buttery sweetness, the crispy crunch of my first bite.
It was so good, I moaned.
Anders choked on a fry, and chased it with the rest of his tea. By the wrinkle of disgust on his face, the combination tasted terrible. "Can you not?" he whispered to me, coughing.
"Have you tasted this? It's delicious. You should have what I'm having."
"I don't eat sweet things."
"You're missing out. What do they put in this stuff? It's so good."
"Butter, flour, and love, or so the sign says," he replied, motioning to the slogan painted on the back wall of the restaurant.”