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A hollow dough, whisked from the oil the moment it strikes the pan. It melts away upon the tongue, leaving the…

A hollow dough, whisked from the oil the moment it strikes the pan. It melts away upon the tongue, leaving the diner to ponder a fleeting taste that leaves only a silent, lingering melancholy.

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A hollow dough, whisked from the oil the moment it strikes the pan. It melts away upon the… | Where Winds Meet Database