jetheriot
Ethel slice 1
What – you may be asking yourself – in the hell is an Ethel slice? An Ethel slice is a diminutive quantity of a sliceable dessert such as a cake or a pie. My mom would always ask for Ethel slices when offered a dessert. After all, some times for dessert you only want a teeny slice of something.
I assumed the Ethel slice was a standard measurement. Turns out my mom had a friend who had an aunt named Ethel. Was Ethel skinny? Was Ethel neurotic? I know nothing of Ethel except for the size of the slices she routinely requested.
Truth be told, after the first bite of cake, you have had enough anyway. Bigger is not always better; in the case of cake, bigger is often less appetizing. The Ethel slice is inherently inviting; it is scrumptiously proportioned. It suggests restraint while acknowledging and allowing indulgence.
What – you may be asking yourself – is the portion difference between a sliver and an Ethel slice. It's the distance between a sliver and any slice: a sliver is not a full slice. An Ethel slice is. It's more substantial than a sliver.
I'm not saying that the concept of the Ethel slice is anything new, I'm just trying to tie that concept to the name “Ethel slice”, a term known today by no more than a dozen or so people. The name fills a niche in our cultural vocabulary. Plus, it's so fierce-sounding: “Carrot cake?” “Oh, only an Ethel slice please.” I use it all the time. The concept is in search of its name. It has found it – I believe – in Ethel slice.
I'm spreading the saying around in the hopes it will catch on for the sake of my amusement. Who knows, maybe it will end up in a dictionary one day). Please consider participating by incorporating "Ethel slice" into your vocabulary and asking for one every now and then.
Ethel slice 1
What – you may be asking yourself – in the hell is an Ethel slice? An Ethel slice is a diminutive quantity of a sliceable dessert such as a cake or a pie. My mom would always ask for Ethel slices when offered a dessert. After all, some times for dessert you only want a teeny slice of something.
I assumed the Ethel slice was a standard measurement. Turns out my mom had a friend who had an aunt named Ethel. Was Ethel skinny? Was Ethel neurotic? I know nothing of Ethel except for the size of the slices she routinely requested.
Truth be told, after the first bite of cake, you have had enough anyway. Bigger is not always better; in the case of cake, bigger is often less appetizing. The Ethel slice is inherently inviting; it is scrumptiously proportioned. It suggests restraint while acknowledging and allowing indulgence.
What – you may be asking yourself – is the portion difference between a sliver and an Ethel slice. It's the distance between a sliver and any slice: a sliver is not a full slice. An Ethel slice is. It's more substantial than a sliver.
I'm not saying that the concept of the Ethel slice is anything new, I'm just trying to tie that concept to the name “Ethel slice”, a term known today by no more than a dozen or so people. The name fills a niche in our cultural vocabulary. Plus, it's so fierce-sounding: “Carrot cake?” “Oh, only an Ethel slice please.” I use it all the time. The concept is in search of its name. It has found it – I believe – in Ethel slice.
I'm spreading the saying around in the hopes it will catch on for the sake of my amusement. Who knows, maybe it will end up in a dictionary one day). Please consider participating by incorporating "Ethel slice" into your vocabulary and asking for one every now and then.