This is aPalm NRG 5-piece Ultimate Heat Therapy Set. You either know what that is, or can jump in the forum to ask other people about it.
Why aren’t we giving you more info? Well, we weren’t sure what to write for the Meh-rathon so we decided to look at some past Meh write-ups for inspiration. (You can find a random one here, if you want.) Unfortunately, all that did was make us nostalgic and maybe a little teary-eyed. And then the boss was all “Where’s the write-ups, writer dude?” and we panicked and… uhh… Please enjoy this classic write-up about an entirely different product! Also, feel free to share in the forum if you find one you liked or forgot about or missed entirely.
Feeling romantic? Good, because we’re back with another pick from our branded content romance novel library. Today’s tale is one of identity, lust, and proper cooking temperatures. Please enjoy the following excerpts from Hot Dish, by Peter Gollandaise.
David felt as though the ladder would never end, but when it did, he found himself in a bunker fashioned to be a kitchen. There was only one other student there, a woman in a tattered chef coat. David straightened his own pristine chef coat where it had creased from the descent. As he patted his pocket, he felt the various components of his Weber iDevices Dual Probe Smart Food Thermometer.
“So, this is it?” David said. “The renowned Madame Girst’s Culinary Academy? In a bunker?”
“Well, I reckon the Madame does have a bit of the ol’ eccentricities when it comes to teaching style,” the woman said. “But shouldn’t say no much more 'bout her, given she and the other students are bound to show up soon. I’m Maureen, by the way.”
“David,” said David.
He had to admit, while she spoke in an unrefined way, she was stunningly beautiful. He extended his hand, but before they could shake, the whole bunker shook furiously. The lights flickered, then came back. Once again, all was still, but something felt wrong.
“What was that?” David asked.
“I reckon it was a quake,” Maureen said, shaken. “I ain’t no expert on the Richter, but I’d reckon it was a strong one. I should be gettin’ on checkin’ to make sure all’s okay up surface-wise, I reckon.”
Maureen disappeared up the ladder. She returned a few minutes later, looking flustered. “Well, I reckon I’ve got some bad news,” she said. “We’re trapped.”
It had been four hours since the earthquake when Maureen said what David had been thinking himself: “I’m hungry.”
“Well, we are two chefs in a fully stocked kitchen,” David said. “We seem to still have power down here, so I guess we could make some dinner.”
“Chef?” Maureen laughed. “I reckon I never made anything that ain’t involving shakin’ and/or bakin’.”
David looked at her dumbfounded. He’d been working on his culinary skills for nearly the entire thirty years of his life. There’d been a brief stint when he’d left the kitchen to be a male underwear model, but it never felt right, and he’d donated all of his modeling money to charity. Madame Girst’s Culinary Academy was everything he’d ever dreamed of, and now he found out she’d let in some hack without any skills at all?
David composed himself. They were already trapped together. It would only make things worse to be angry. And besides, he had a hard time being mad at someone so attractive.
He got up and walked to the refrigerator. “How about we make a roast?” he said.
“Why, I ain’t so good at roasts,” Maureen said. “They always end up all pink and tough inside.”
“That’s because they’re undercooked,” David said. “But not to worry.” He reached into his pocket and produced the Weber iDevices Dual Probe Smart Food Thermometer. “With this, we can guarantee it’s cooked all the way through.”
“Gosh, it’s bound to get hot enough in here with an oven running. Last thing we need to be doin’ is openin’ the oven every ten minutes, lettin’ the heat out to see if it’s reached temperature.”
“We don’t have to,” David said. “With the Weber iGrill App, we can monitor it on my phone via bluetooth, as long as we’re within 150 feet of the oven. And if my phone dies, we’ll have the display, which features a touch interface and illumination.”
“But a roast is big,” Maureen said. “I reckon the temperature ain’t gonna be the same throughout.”
“That’s why it’s so great that the Weber iDevices Dual Probe Smart Food Thermometer comes with two thermometer inputs.”
“And if we forget to look?”
“I’ll use the Weber iGrill App to set a customized temperature alert.”
“Well, I reckon they thought of everything over there at Weber,” Maureen said. Then, a little more sheepishly: “Given this is supposed to be a class, I was wonderin’ if maybe you’d teach me to cook good, David?”
David smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”
David barely realized they’d been down there for three days. In that time, they’d moved on from roasts to cook any number gourmet delicacies requiring the two-thermometer setup that the Weber iDevices Dual Probe Smart Food Thermometer provided. But they’d shared much more than food.
Laying on the floor of the bunker next to Maureen, their two chef coats of varying quality tangled in a heap at their feet, David said, “While these have been some of the happiest days of my life, we do need to figure out a way out of here before we run out of food. It is strange, though. You would think that Madame Girst would have come by now, seen the manhole cover down to subterranean cooking school blocked, and called for help.”
“What makes you think she isn’t here already,” Maureen said, but her voice had changed. Now, she spoke eloquently, each word curling upwards with a mild French accent.
David jumped to his feet. “You mean…? No!”
“That’s right,” Maureen said. “You never asked me my last name. It’s Girst. Madame Maureen Girst, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“So this has been…”
“An elaborate test, yes,” Maureen said, standing herself. “There was no earthquake. The door is open. As I hinted, I’m a bit of an eccentric teacher.”
“But why?”
“You see, David, sometimes the best way to learn is to be the teacher,” Maureen said. “And you have taught me. For example, about how to use a Weber iDevices Dual Probe Smart Food Thermometer to its fullest potential. And, by the way, you’ve passed. You’ll find your certification, signed by me, in the pantry.”
But David felt an enormous sadness come over him. “So if none of this was real, then the chemistry between us was also fake?”
Maureen shook her head. “No, David.” She placed her hand on his chest. “Loving you was never part of the curriculum.”
