King Cake

For the first few weeks in January, I got the winter blues. After spending six days hanging out with my family and eating every possible form of junk food, we returned from warm (if not sunny) Louisiana to cold, overcast, wet Utah. And to add to my agony, I knew that all my siblings still at home were having a great time without me. But when my sister flew back to Utah a week later, she brought something that made it all better: a king cake. (And yes, I’m an emotional eater.)

King cakes are the best part of the Mardi Gras season. If you’ve never tasted one, they’re like a braided cinnamon roll covered in frosting. You can also get them with different fillings such as raspberry, strawberry, chocolate peanut butter, Bavarian cream, and cream cheese. A family friend once complained that a king cake is “too sweet,” as if that were a problem. With all that frosting, flavored filling, and carbs it’s pure gluttony. It’s no wonder that Louisiana is last on the list for healthy states. And if the sugar itself isn’t enough fun for you, there’s always a naked plastic baby hidden inside (Do you see the baby?). Whoever finds the baby in their piece wins, or if you live in Louisiana and you find the baby, you get to provide the next king cake. I love the fact that when you dig the plastic baby out of a strawberry or raspberry filled king cake, it's covered in red goop as if it had just exited the birth canal. Yummy!


Mardi Gras season doesn’t technically start until January 6, but the enterprising folks at the local bakeries are kind enough to start baking king cakes the day after Christmas. Unfortunately for me, they weren’t ready to go on sale until December 27, hours after we had to leave for the Houston airport. Normally, my mom sends me one for my birthday, but after three days in the mail, it arrives smashed, stale, and crusty. I love it just the same. The cake my sister brought me was only a day old. I didn't have time to dig into it immediately, and it's sort of a messy proposition--not something I just want to rip a hunk off of while driving in my car. But, it was so fresh I could smell it all afternoon as I drove around town, running errands.

Lucky me! I found the baby in the second slice. Of course, I ate half of it before Dan got home, so chances were pretty good that I was going to find the baby. I guess it’s good that my sister only brought me one king cake. Now I can’t wait for that smashed, crusty one to arrive in the mail.