Look at social media today and you’ll be hard-pressed not to see someone complaining about flour. Some resent those purchasing flour for the first time in the pursuit of trendy bread making; others fear that with a flour shortage they may never begin their bread making at all. But I’m here to publically clear up my position: You snooze, you lose, bitch! I bought all the flour for my huge ass roux, and I’m not sorry!
There are lots of reasons why someone might want flour, but there’s only one reason why I drove my Honda Fit to the five grocery stores nearest my home and bought every last heaving bag: For my ginorrrrrmous roux, babe!
For the unlearned masses, a roux is a sauce thickening agent made with flour and fat, and I need more of it than your brain has the capacity to fucking imagine.
I want my meals 95% roux. I want my sauce so thick that my rigatonis looks like corpses suspended in volcanic ash after the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. That’s what I want!
A lot of people will say my decision to buy all the flour in order to make deep vats of roux every day is selfish, and to those people I say: You can eat my dust because you will never eat my flour.
Women are conditioned to apologize for everything, and I’m happy to be on the frontlines of rebellion against that norm by absolutely never apologizing for my big ass roux that grows stronger, thicker, and more beige by the goddamn second.
Of course, I got the biggest roux by being the best at buying up all the flour, and I’ll always welcome some healthy competition. So maybe instead of trying to shame me, you should all try to be a bit more like me and camp outside the store in an elderly woman disguise, busting through those automatic doors at the crack of morn to load up on the good powder and get the hard sauce.
Till then, stop complaining, flops.
