I used to eschew lemon bars—too tart for my palate.
But one of my ridiculous theories is that our tastebuds get worn out as we age and
we seek different flavors to shock ‘em back into consciousness.
(Personal examples: beer, coffee, brussels sprouts, bourbon, artichokes, and dressings other than ranch.)

Tom’s lemon bars finally won me over to not only want, but crave them.
And they were just as good the next day.

So I’m playing my card to use this photo from the previous day in lieu of the single photo I took on St. Patrick’s Day.
This was actually snapped .