We Bring the Farm to Your Party
Imagine if you could bring all the wholesome goodness of a farm to your next shindig without having to do all that pesky planting, harvesting and down-home cooking. Well, we’ve done all the hard, back-breaking work for you, so you can impress your kin and kind from the Big Smoke you haven’t seen in a coon’s age with the fruits of real country living. We’ve got fresh-baked breads, buns, cinnamon rolls, eggs, farm-made honey, jams and maple syrup, pot-pies and of course a cornucopia of our signature, homemade cheesecakes with all the toppings.
Now that the maple syrup’s all in, the bees are kept, all the berries are picked, the chickens are settin’ quiet and all the fences have all been mended, Tommy the “Taste Tester” has got plenty of time on his hands to load up our vintage pick-up truck and roll out to yonder towns and villages, bringing bounty to sparse tables. Wherever there’s a brunch threatening to break out, he’ll be there. Wherever there’s a baby shower set to start raging, he’ll be there. Wherever there’s somebody fixin’ to reveal somebody else’s gender, he’ll be there. He’ll be there in the way that somebody who loves to eat the things he raises would be there, except that he’s almost on a diet and besides there’s another delivery to make, so he can’t possibly stay…probably.
Behold: The Cheesecake Bar!
Most culinary scholars regard The Cheesecake Bar as nothing short of mythical: a zany phantasm propounded only by wide-mouthed dreamers who waste their days away drooling over the impossible. How can it be, they ask, that so many varieties of delectable cheesecake could exist in any one place, at any one time–unguarded from predators–just waiting to be chosen, waiting to be savoured, waiting to be devoured? Preposterous clap-trap, they say!
But there are others who tell tales handed down from their forefathers, tales told only in whispers–shrouded in the gauze of mere rumour and fantastic speculation–about a land surrounded by rivers of chocolate and volcanoes that spew cherry topping all day long. In the heart of that paradise–too high in the mountains to be reached by foot, only those with llamas and Sherpa guides could ever make the treacherous journey–lies a holy citadel. And in that citadel, perched on a golden altar, drenched in technicolor succulence, sits The Cheesecake Bar. But the very few who have ever cast their eyes upon it and gorged themselves with its ambrosia have been so overwhelmed by the colossal yumminess of it all that they never made it back to tell the world what they’ve tasted in all of its fantabulocity.
Well, after many years of fruitless searching and dangerous expeditions wherein many men were lost, we at Peaceful Valley Farm have finally slayed that unicorn, so to speak, and brought it back for all the world to graze on. Behold The Cheesecake Bar!!! It really does exist, my friends, it does indeed. Okay, so the table wasn’t quite big enough to put out all the possible cheesecake varieties, but you get the idea.