Dessert Is the Most Enjoyable Time of Day With Cheesecake
Sunday, January 31st, 2010 Subscribe To Our Feed
Terrific New eBook On How To Broil Delicious Foods My childhood was a little unusual compared to most other children. I didn’t sneak sweets. I actually ate only meat, fruit and even some spinach and green beans. I suspect that many of you parents might be wishing that you had a perfect child like I was. My unique appetite may have been related to my mother feeding me baby foods until I was approximately twenty-eight years old. As I reconsider it, the people at Gerber didn’t produce a pureed version of German chocolate cake. My candy consumption was also limited. After I would come home from trick or treating every Halloween night, my mother would make me dump my goodies on the floor, where we would both seat ourselves, cross-legged. We would sort my collection into three piles. I didn’t really get to assign anything to a particular pile; I was mostly an observer in the annual ritual. Into one of those piles would go everything that was made by the generous Mrs. Robertson. Immediately after sorting, that pile went straight into our garbage can. My mother was sure that Mrs. Robertson let her eighty four cats walk all over the counters in her kitchen at will. My mother knew this because Mrs. Robertson’s sister-in-law had told her this (both the number of cats and the freedom that those felines were given.) The second pile contained a couple of apples and a small box of raisins. That pile was mine. I was never too sure what happened to the third pile, the one that had candy of every sort imaginable and popcorn balls. My mother spirited those off to my parents bedroom, and I never saw them again. The only time I ever was allowed to have candy was when I visited one pair of grandparents. (My other grandparents just read me Bible verses all day, and convince me that God was not particularly enthusiastic about any behavior of a typical child.) I subsequently learned not to blame my mother for my almost sugarless upbringing. I now know that somewhere there is a hidden school for mothers where they learn to protect their children from all things with a pleasurable flavor. I know this because my wife exhibited the same behavior with our son on Halloween that my mother employed. That was typically followed by a couple weeks of repeated, “Do I look fat to you?” It didn’t take me long to realize that such a question demands a very rapid response; one should not even pause for a breath. When I became a full fledged adult at the magical age of twenty-nine, I began to learn that applesauce, vegetables and meat in their natrual form do not really have the same texture. I also discovered the wonders of dessert in the wonderful form of a gourmet cheesecake. Actually, I now know that the word gourmet is rarely applied to anything that comes from the discount grocery store in an ugly box with a small cellophane peep hold. The cheesecake turned out to be mostly chemicals–delicious chemicals. Remember that my taste buds had been accustomed to the miracle recipes of the baby food makers. To me, the cheesecake was the definition of heaven. Later in life, as I belatedly went through my experimental wild years, I learned that cheesecake could taste much less like cardboard than my first sample. (Please don’t ask why I know how cardboard tastes.) In addition, I discovered that cheesecake, the wonder food, actually comes in lots of different flavors. Dessert is now my favorite time of day. My favorite way to complete a nutritious mean of two jars of beef, two jars of mashed peas and a pureed apple with cinnamon is with a slice of turtle cheesecake. Don’t allow this news to leak to my mother, though; she’ll just take it to her bedroom. The saddest part of this story is that I don’t even know how to make a cheesecake. Please tell me if you have a good recipe. Make sure that your recipe doesn’t require using either an oven or a whisk. I do know how to use a blender, though, because I watched my mom prepare the Thanksgiving turkey one year. Author’s aside: It’s possible I may have exaggerated just a bit here and there, but don’t mention it to my mom. She doesn’t have a computer and thinks the Internet is a type of support stocking. I don’t have to worry about her actually reading this.
Technorati Tags: No Tags
Related Tags: No Tags
Possible Related Posts
A Few Recommended Uses for Chocolate CheesecakeAny Day is the Right Day for Chocolate CheesecakeCheesecakes Ought to Be a Beautiful Vision
