As a child growing up in the foothills of Grenyarnia, life was a simple, bucolic idyll. Every day the sun would shine through my modest little window, and I’d wake to the gentle scent of the titan arums, as well as the somewhat more pungent, but equally welcome, aroma of the Svenborgian staff bringing me my breakfast.

Oh what a repast it always was! The earthy notes of the Organic sixième presse de pied grape juice! The ever-unexpected delights of caviar-infused macarons! And to top it all off, of course, was my favorite, the delightful egg dish! The name is a bit of a mouthful, Sot den Arschlächer et ass eng Omelette, but my family and I always just called them our beloved Arschloch Omelettes. I never quite took down the recipe, as our staff mysteriously disappeared one night, coincidentally along with some of the tableware and a few million kroner of what mummy and daddy called the loose change. C’est la vie! You will be missed, Griselda! Or was it Greta? Or Bob?

Still, through my years of studying the culinary arts, with literally hours spent every month living and breathing the finest recipes and influencers, I think I’ve come close. My life coach and herbalist both tell me they’ve never tasted anything like it. Please enjoy my most favorite thing, and maybe you’ll become an Archloch lover like me…