RUSTIC DESSERT FARE

    The other day, I had a stopover at the Trailways station in Kingston, New York.   Inside, at the counter, behind the glass, was a portly lady and her portly French bulldog.  The dog was clearly a real character, sitting on the desk and regarding the room like a rotund pasha.
    "May I say hello to your assistant?" I asked the lady.
    "Oh, that's not my assistant," she replied.  "That's my boss."
    I offered the little fellow a sniff of my hand and made the usual hello doggie noises.  "It's actually his birthday today," the lady said proudly.
    "Oh, will he get a birthday cake?" I said, trying to be cute.
    "Yes, he will," she said proudly.  "It's chocolate and it's shaped like a huge pile of dog poop!  It's got little bits of wax  paper on it, to make it look realistic, and they also put these little plastic flies on it!  Of course, he can't have any, but it's delicious."
    "I bet it is!" I replied cheerfully.