Good, now I have the attention of your clammy tongues salivating
for glucosic goodies. Let’s examine the cake traditions of France, where
boulangeries and patisseries equate the American Walgreens by claiming every
street corner. If each morning is a chocolate croissant for a ‘mmm-mmm’
buttery breakfast, one can’t even begin to fathom how heavenly an actual
‘dessert’ would be. And for the most part, I’ll admit, they do not disappoint.
Staying on topic, here’s a mini bibliography of some of the cakes I’ve had the
palatable pleasure of tasting this past month:
1. Bûche
de Noël
What it means: Christmas
log
What it looks like:
Basically a log cake that looks very much like a log, the cheaper
ones a turd, sprinkled with powdered sugar and random plastic
evergreens. Cut it open to find creamy
custard and sponge cake in swirls of psychedelic love.
What it tastes like: AWESOME.
Tradition: You
eat it on Christmas. Duh.What it tastes like: AWESOME.
Thoughts: Don’t be disappointed by the puniness of these sticks… with all that cream and butter, one slice’ll get your heart pumpin’.
2. Galette des Rois
What it means:
Cake of Kings
What it looks like:
Kind of like a big ass flaky omelette. With crusty white almond paste inside. What it taste like: Wayyy better than that description.
Tradition: To celebrate King’s Day, January 6th. Somewhere inside this bad boy is a little feve, or figurine, and who ever is lucky enough to break their teeth biting it gets to wear a BK crown for the day.
Thoughts: I got the crown this year. Well worth the toothache.
3. Couronne Briochée
What it means: Crown bread thingy
What it looks like: A donut on steroids, decorated with fruit-cake tackiness.
What it tastes like: A donut on steroids.
Tradition: Also for Kings Day. Basically, the inventor of the cake above copyrighted the cooler name, so to compete, the dude from this bakery decided to make his look like a crown.
Thoughts: where’s the cream filling?
French cakes are, in essence, three things: 1. Decorative elements of religious or traditional
celebrations; 2. Rich, but not overly sweet, with more or less natural flavors
and simplistic decorations; 3. Filled with butter.
So enough with the Gordon Ramsay commentary… what’s the
point of all this cake talk? Well, as satiating as these francophone delicacies
might be, there still comes a day in every person’s living abroad experience
where one reaches a deep revelation: where the hell is my red velvet cake?!
If you think sincerely about it, (which I do), my American favorite goes against everything French: 1) It’s anything but natural, obnoxiously fire-engine red with the main ingredients being shortening and buttermilk; 2) It’s excessive, a minimum of 3 layers glued together by thick cream cheese frosting to further glaze the already sugar infused-monster; and 3) It’s 100% American, featured on every food network show, in every trendy cupcake salon, and in many of my family photos from college, where one simple slice brought to my dorm room could magically disintegrate all the stress from midterm exams. I guess in a way, what makes a cake so great is not just the taste, but rather the occasion to share it with others. If I were to be sentimental about it (which I am), cake is about the celebratory experience as a whole, instead of the sum of its parts (which, if added up, equals too many hours at the gym).
So, in respect to both new favorites and old time classics,
and in honor of my 23rd anniversary of birth, I’ve decided to
indulge in both: a briochée for breakfast, homemade velvet for tonight, and maybe,
upon my afternoon stroll past the corner patisserie, another sugary surprise.
Just because it’s my birthday.
