Because life is sexier when things are made with love.
Did you make that with your own hands?
I like to keep things local.
I love a man that wood fires his pizza.
I’ll DI your Y.
Where do you have your urban farm?
Could you bottle up your love in a mason jar for me?
Does that sea salt come from the source?
I’d like to grass feed your beef.
Did you pull those leeks out of the ground with your own bare hands?
I would love to forage with you.
You’re so artisan they could sell you at a farmers market.
Want a taste of the artisan life?
I don’t believe in mechanization.
I’d love to visit your community garden.
That homemade distilled liquor you make is as intoxicating as your looks.
Can I buy you a handcrafted cocktail with cardamom bitters?
The art of homemade bread is in the gentle kneading.
To really cultivate the land, you have to go soft and slow.
Doing good things with your hands is an art.
Small batches? I totally don’t believe that…
The air smells like loaf of artisan bread I’d love to make with you.
You’re a skilled manual worker of sauce? That’s hot.
You have the hands of a skilled artisan.
If I were a strawberry, I’d love to be dipped in some of your artisan chocolate.
You’re so crafty! Are you an artisan vegan pudding maker?
Say it again slowly… “artigiano…”
You’re so small scale I could eat you in one bite.
Do you work with your hands? Because I prefer the taste of artisan.
Even your bed is shaped like a handcrafted brick oven? Show me.
Original article published on Foodie Underground. Co-written with Anna Brones.