There's nothing worse than craving something so deeply, without the means to get it. The buttery, flaky layers of Pillsbury biscuits constantly occupy my mind, but if there were no oven to bake them ...

I don't cook. Like, ever. At least, not in the traditional sense. My stove and oven have been turned on fewer times than hell has frozen over in Phoenix. Friends who cook can't grasp this concept and ...