Do you ever reminisce of the past? Think of what ifs and what could have been? Of long lost loves and romance? This princess party reminded me of fairy tales, of those dreams each protagonist wished for. Just the idea alone of princes and princesses conjures up the image of romance. In any case, here is something I threw together a few years past of the endeavor. Can you tell the difference in writing if there is one?
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Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. What is a meal, anyway, but whatever food that serves to satisfy one's appetite at a certain time of the day? In our apartment during undergrad, the midnight snack became another meal, eaten in the dim light of a single light bulb obscured by a foggy yellow ceiling cover or consumed while perched on the edge of a roommate's bed. One week, vanilla buttercream frosted fudge cake dominated the midnight meal. Leftovers from a two layer pink and white frosted castle cake, homemade for a Prince and Princess Party hosted by a friend, the cake was both treat and torment.
Rich and dark, the cake balanced the sickeningly sweet buttercream, making it the perfect midnight treat when paired with a cup of cold milk. Homemade treats always taste better than store bought sweets, especially when the baking takes three hours and the assembly and frosting of the cake an extra two hours. I remember mixing the batter together, watching as the eggs and oil moistened the flour and cocoa mixture. As the smell of chocolate permeated the kitchen, I could already imagine eating the moist cake, still warm from the oven, but I had to resist. The frosting, on the other hand, was a different story. As I added more powdered sugar to the butter, I dipped my finger in to taste. At first, the slick oil feel of the creamed butter coated my tongue with a film of fat solids. It wasn't ready. After pouring in the rest of the box of sugar and a few dashes of vanilla, I stole another taste. One word. Costco. Licking the frosting remnants from my finger, I thought of the single layer Costco-sized buttercream frosted cake our high school Go Club bought to celebrate a tournament. So sweet that it was nauseating, the buttercream from that day matched the vestiges of vanilla and sugar sliding down my throat.
Sugar and chocolate have been paired together since 1522 when the nuns of Oaxaca, an Aztec town, developed a new recipe for chocolate which combined cocoa, sugar, cinnamon and other spices to make the version of chocolate we know today. Chocolate arouses all our senses - smell, taste, sight, touch and sound - from the initial crackle of paper and plastic when the chocolate pieces are unwrapped to the last bite of sweet sugar and bitter cocoa melting together on our tongues. Historically, cacao beans were worth their weight in gold and used as currency. However, after Hernán Cortés introduced the bitter bean to Europe, the value of the cacao bean decreased. As Europeans - French, Spanish, Italians and Germans alike - planted the cacao tree to gain profits and obtain more of the desired cacao beans, the value of chocolate decreased. Now, most of us can buy chocolate in any grocery store for a low price and in several forms. Brownies, cake, chocolate bars and drinks. The availability of packaged fudge cake mix at Safeway persuaded me to make the castle cake chocolate flavored. Knowing that a chocolate frosting would overwhelm the cake and turn the dessert into an ordeal to finish, I decided upon a plain vanilla frosting, simplicity at its best.
Initially, brewed into a bitter drink, chocolate offered restorative powers due to the caffeine and energy stored in the beans. In today's society, fads come and go. Chocolate switches constantly between being good and bad on the basis of fat content and antioxidant factors. However, I paid no attention to any of the arguments for or against chocolate when deciding to bake a chocolate cake. The desire for chocolate, a sweet I saw as decadent and rich, motivated me instead. Chocolate producers argue for the health benefits of dark chocolate and the antioxidant effects of cocoa powder when unpaired with sugar, trying to rationalize the consumption of chocolate. Why deceive yourself? I thought. Even if the chocolate offers fitness advantages, the amount of fat from the oil, eggs and frosting negate the positive effects. As I stated before, a meal offers sustenance regardless of the composition and the time at which it is eaten. For me, chocolate cake offered comfort, energy in the form of sugar (the brain subsists upon sugar as a first energy source), and an overall feeling of happiness. J.K Rowling conceived the right notion of chocolate being a heal-all product in her books - chocolate solves depression as well as broken arms and empty stomachs.
Hunger makes even the simplest meal taste like a feast. In the middle of the night, when my stomach growled, I turned towards the leftover cake sitting on the kitchen table, pondering whether I should cut a slice or resist and go to sleep. It was inevitable. I sat down, stared at the white monstrosity and stabbed it, cutting a two inch slice of cake and sliding it onto a plate. Pink florets lay along the lower edge of the white buttercream, contrasting sharply with the dark brown of the chocolate fudge. Picking up a fork, I thought of the three sticks of butter and box and a half of powdered sugar I had mixed together for the frosting. I shrugged my shoulders and placed the cake in my mouth. The cake was still moist, crumbling apart as I chewed. Licking my lips, I tasted the overwhelming flavor of vanilla. A little stiff from standing on the cake uncovered except for a thin sheet of plastic wrap, the buttercream melted into a fluid mixture when it entered my mouth.
Knowing the ingredients of the buttercream did not stop me from finishing the slice of cake. In fact, resisting the urge to cut another slice was the hard part. The buttercream frosting was unhealthy, but good. As I ate, I made sure each bite of cake had frosting. Overly sweet, the buttercream coated my tongue with a film of melting butter and sugar. I anticipated each mouthful yet cringed slightly with the next intake of sugar. It was impossible to stop; I had to continue eating. Unlike chocolate, vanilla buttercream has nothing to redeem itself with - no possibility of possessing healthy antioxidants. Instead, saturated fats top the list of unhealthy aspects. Society today obsesses over the health benefits and negative effects of food to the degree that consuming baked goods such as cakes and pastries seems almost offensive.
In contrast, in our apartment, the lack of baked goods brought criticism. Where are the cookies? Why aren't you baking? Only two of the common questions that float around when no desserts are in sight.
A week. A week had passed and cake still sat on the makeshift platter but now it resided on the countertop as opposed to the table. Only a 3 by 5 inch piece of cake was left but no one moved to eat the remnants of the castle. While my roommates and I did not consider the fat content of the frosted cake a deterrent, the amount of cake proves a challenge. The cake no longer holds the same fascination and temptation as the day it was baked. A week ago, the raw batter served as the forbidden fruit; I could not taste the results of my work until the party. A week later, the frosted cake held no more pleasure.
The cake has become dry except for where the frosting meets cake, holding in moisture. I cut off the next to last piece, hoping that it will disappear from my plate, but it does not happen. The taste of chocolate exists as a subtle companion to the cake, no longer the highlight but the accompaniment to the frosting. The buttercream requires milk to wash away syrupy sweet film coating my mouth. Even after swallowing, the taste of liquid sugar remains. Regardless of how good the initial bite was, after a week of cake, nothing tastes the same. When I initially wrote this, I had been in the process of trying to swallow the last bite on my plate. I couldn't help but cringe and think "Why? Why did I inflict this pain on myself?" Swallowing required effort. I drank the last of my milk, but I could still taste sugar at the back of my throat. The cake satisfied my appetite, my need for food, but from the first midnight snack to this last meal, the marginal utility (i.e. the amount of pleasure attributed to the cake) decreased significantly. The first time, it was a pleasure. This last bite a chore. I had to force myself to chew and swallow.
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| Even made petri dish cupcakes from the extra batter and frosting |
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