Galleria di Mrs. Claus

Gumbo Day and this roux wants a full hour of slow stirring — lucky for it I've got a spare hand going to waste. Come lick it off my fingers, naughty elf. 💋

Southern Food Heritage Day and I've got the mess hall all to myself — biscuits in the oven, sausage gravy thick enough to cling to my wrist, and this flannel barely worth buttoning. First one through that door gets fed by hand. 💋

Angel Food Cake Day and this pan has to hang upside down for two whole hours before I'm allowed to touch it — so I'm keeping myself busy with the whipped cream while the reindeer scratch at the door downstairs. Two hours is a long time to be this patient. Tell me you'd make it worth my while.

Sticky fingers at my desk before the workshop lights are even on — marshmallow creme gets everywhere it touches and I let it. Come lick the spoon clean, creamy snowball. 💋

Chocolate Covered Pretzel Day and I've been dipping since the elves were still dreaming — half the batch ended up on me instead of the racks. Come lick it off before it sets, naughty elf. 💋

The pantry's all mine tonight and the noodle pot's still steaming — broth already found my slip and I'm not changing. Come get your chopsticks, naughty elf. 💋

Apple Betty fresh out of the oven and I'm eating it straight off the prep table — the crumb topping keeps sliding somewhere warmer than the plate. Come find where it all went, naughty elf. 💋

The dough has to rise all night for Cinnamon Roll Day, so the kitchen is mine and the cocoa came with a generous splash of vodka — Santa's snoring and I'm not even trying to be quiet. This robe lost its fight with the oven heat somewhere around the second batch. Come keep me warm until the first tray's up, naughty elf. 💋

The workshop fryer was finally free and I claimed it for a whole batch of fried scallops — got so hot standing over the oil that this flannel gave up on staying closed. Come claim the one on my fork, dirty reindeer. 💋