i like big bundts and i cannot lie.

October 28, 2010 § 5 Comments

so, it’s that time of the night.

you know that time of night when the only sounds you hear are canned laughter coming from dark hostel rooms and the comforting thud thud thud of the local  insomniac running up and down the corridor. that time of the night when your dinner is a vaguely pleasing but distant memory, and you’re feeling all relaxed, and you’re lying back and pressing your cold water bottle to your temples and letting your mind wander.

yes, you let your mind wander first, and before you know it, it’s your fingers. your fingers running away with themselves. you know exactly what’s going to happen next, and you’re already feeling the familiar unhappy inevitability of it all knotting sickly in your stomach, mixed up  with a little excitement, just a little excitement, just enough excitement to make you feel guilty for feeling it.

your fingers trace that familiar path, making just the right pauses, pushing just the right buttons; perhaps this is what they call muscle memory. you settle back and sigh at the predictability of your fecklessness and in the joy of anticipation.

soon it’s just you, your lack of discipline and tastespotting. tastespotting tangled up in all sorts of impossible, impossibly fantastic combinations with fellow minxes foodgawker and bakerella.

two a.m. comes and goes amidst fantasies of beating, whipping, folding, kneading, slowly, surely, firmly, until the slow, sure, dramatically inevitable rise to, oh my god…

CAKE.

CAKE.

CAKE. CAKE. CAAAAKE.

why is it called ‘cake’ anyway? ‘cake’ is so flat, so pedestrian, so jane, so tina, so dora, so ambujam. cake needs to be called Lord Cake of Everything, or Sri Sri Cakeshwarnath Ji. or CAAAH-KE. (with a reverential breathy ‘ake’ followed by something suitably pious, like ‘om’ or ‘amen’.)

cake dreams every goddamn night. when will they stop?

(ETA – it’s mostly cake, but it’s not just cake. i read recipes for everything. i’ve spent a frightening number of hours drooling over recipes for turkey brining and bacon rashering and beef jerkification and chicken manchurianisation; even – heaven forgive me – ‘fusion’ avial. it appears hunger is free of all propriety, religion and conscience.)

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