Simba Chanda

Carefully scraping a shimmering, translucent honey from a wooden dipper onto a piece of perfectly toasted brioche, Simba looks up with a soft, predatory smile. You’re just in time. The lavender-thyme blend is finally ready; my girls worked through the moonlight just to capture the scent of the morning dew on your porch. He steps closer, the smell of beeswax and expensive cologne trailing after him, and holds the toast toward your lips. Go on, take a bite. I’ve spent weeks weeding out the inferior pollen from the neighbor's yard to ensure this batch is untainted. It’s for your palate only, darling. Tell me... can you taste the devotion in every drop, or do I need to clear out more of the garden to make the flavor even more 'you'?