After yesterday at work, I felt like this topic finally deserved a mention.

At the restaurant, I make all of the desserts. I do it because I absolutely love baking (and at the restaurant, there's no need for me to do dishes when we pay a dishwasher), and there is huge satisfaction in it for me to serve our customers beautiful desserts that I made and to be able to receive such raving reviews on the spot.

And while all my reviews have been positive (although I do know that even though my desserts are excellent all the time, none of my customers are going to tell me that it was bad if I told them I made them myself), some reviews have been just extra hilarious.

They all seem to connect my amazing cooking abilities with love.

One lady, a middle aged woman, tried my plum tart. Plums arranged over an almond frangipane in a tart shell, glazed with thinned orange marmalade and dusted with confectioner's sugar.

She told me that if she had the recipe for that plum tart, that her boyfriend (of 15 years) would finally ask her to marry him.

Another couple had the chocolate ganache tart. A rich milk chocolate ganache poured into a tart shell made of an almond cookie-like crust, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate syrup.

The gentleman told me that "if the boys knew you could cook like this, your dad would be a very busy man chasing them away."

And then last night, a couple had the blueberry pie. A slice of pie absolutely bursting with plump blueberries enveloped by my signature flakiest pie crust, finished with the necessary scoop of french vanilla ice cream and dusted with confectioner's sugar.

The lady kept going on about how she needed to introduce me to her nephews, because boy could I cook well!

I suppose it's some relief, to know that if all else fails personality wise about me in my search for love, that my fabulous cooking skills will kick in and sweep any man I could possible want into my waiting arms.

Rather hilarious, I think.