Just when you think you’ve seen it all, along comes something crazy like a Hell Pony Biscuit.
It happened like this: twas Ms Q’s birthday bash (Ms Q being the pal who helped bring those ridiculous Jelly Belly Cookies into being), and – being a horse obsessive – she wanted to play with her housemate’s My Little Pony cutter (as you do, when you’re in your mid-twenties).
A mutual friend made a quick biscuit dough (butter, sugar, flour – in quantities guessed and beaten), and Ms Q got ready to roll.
Where’s the fun in a plain batch of My Little Pony biscuits?
FETCH THE COLOURING.
With a dab of purple and spots of orange, suddenly things took an interesting turn. In minutes, our beige ball of pre-baked biscuit had gone all psychedelic.
And you know what? It looked GREAT.
Only by accident had the colour been added so late. However, the marbling effect it created was, quite frankly, awesome.
Yes, it was unusual – comparisons with the underworld, placenta, varicose veins and bruises flew about the room – but what better way to jazz up some birthday biscuits?
Actually, if I’m honest, that’s not all the jazzing that occurred.
Having spent some time in the oven, our Ponies from Hell (as they came to be known) were deemed to be slightly too dry. Possibly thanks to the eggless dough, they turned out more like sweet pastry than cookies – crisp, rather than chewy.
No matter though: Ms Q had some extra supplies.
Glittery icing pens, Cream Cheese frosting, pink sugar granules and candied lemon segments to be precise.
It was time to release our inner five-year olds (though two-year olds might have done better).
When we were done, the whole lot was thoroughly lubricated – looking not unlike My Little Ponies who had been in some kind of accident (with a van filled with children’s face paints perhaps).
Still, for those who could look beyond the monstrous decorations (and the thought of all those additives), the taste of the ponies was quite superb – especially dipped in the Cream Cheese frosting.
I ate them like a sweet-toothed version of Salsa and Nachos, better still with the odd fresh raspberry plonked on top.
On and on our Hell Ponies galloped, down my gullet to the Ranch of No Return.
I hope they’ll be perfectly happy there.
But not nearly as happy as me.