Summary: One simple dessert sparks an insatiable passion that would last a lifetime.
I enjoy sweets.
Candies. Cakes. Pies. Syrups. Glazes. Pastries. Custards. Chocolates. Biscuits. Sweet teas. Sorbets. Ice creams. Cheesecakes.
My somewhat unnatural attraction to confectionary genius is one of my only weaknesses. My habit manifested itself innocently enough. During my adolescent years sleep began to deceive and elude me, (not to any particular disdain of mine) so during the densest hours of twilight when I would still be very much coherent, hungry, and working on some case or another I would often unfurl myself from my favorite scarlet red wingback chair, go to the kitchen, and grab whatever food happened to be handy and in sight.
It always happened that the food I managed to find would usually be the remainder left over from the dishes served at dinner or snack time from the previous evening.
On one singular occasion, this dessert stands out from all the rest of the cold turkey sandwiches and common spaghetti dishes that came countless times before. Not that I hadn't had snacks of desserts before either, but this single slice of cake stands out from any of the other in my mind. It was so saccharine and delicate. Velvety and fragrant, light and dainty, airy and delectable… it was a lemon custard cake.
It wasn't too sugary, insofar as initial taste, which is why I find it odd that this would be "the one" to garner all my passion for this culinary genre but…
By God, man.
This was no ordinary desert.
The actual cake had three layers with a thick but lightly whipped lemon custard middle. It was almost the consistency of a freshly baked cheesecake but without that troublesome pudding dribble. You see, there's something about pudding cakes you must understand on the level that I do. Custards, when they sit and even after they're chilled can get a sort of runny syrup that oozes out and when layered in cakes can seep out and make the rest of the pastry soggy.
That simply will not do. It almost makes me sick to think of all the countless custard cakes defiled and utterly ruined because of such talentless endeavors. I've had to sample such disgraceful attempts before and if you know me, you know there's no greater disappointment than a poorly executed dessert.
No, this custard was so consistent and set with no air pockets to mar the tasting experience. No runny ooze or flagging texture. Pure and simply put, it was perfection that I've seen many times since but none comparable to that very first brush with goodness. Such raw talent and love, the taste palatable and embracing.
Aaaah, but I digress.
The cake itself was moist but not gummy. It was the perfect shade of light poppy yellow to contrast the paler pudding middle. It was flecked throughout with actual tangy and fresh lemon zest and the outside crusts of the cake were indistinguishable from the interior. It was dense without calling to mind a pound cake, rich, tender, and Lord, the fragrance…
Mouthwatering. It permeates my mind, even to this day.
Finally, the top was dusted with a generous and finely sifted confectioner's sugar and crystallized glaze that had tantalizingly dribbled in perfect zig zagged patterns over the top and lazily drooped down the sides. It was undertaken with such professionalism that the glaze hadn't even hardened with the time that had passed since it was lovingly placed on the crystal cake plate. It was still sticky and syrupy and delightful.
And so, being already titillated to the heights of my hungry ecstasy as I stood there staring at this labor of love naughtily beckoning from its cake plate prison, I made my first move and followed through to my last.
I ate slice after slice of that cake until the richness gave me quite a sublimely torturous bellyache. I'd never had an amount of "sweets" that substantial before…
I managed to devour exactly three eighths (crumbs and all) of that cake, the sugar rush carried me higher and higher into paradise and I wasn't hungry again until noon that very next day, and even then all that I could be sated with was the one, lemon custard cake much to the delight of Wammy's then baker. She was utterly thrilled (as it was a new recipe she'd invented on her own) however, my caretakers at the time were not.
It was simply just too much sugar, they insisted. It just wasn't healthy.
And so began out of my small but docile attempt at pseudo-rebellion (against my handlers), and my newfound lust for sweets, the single love affair that would last me my lifetime.
It all began with "the one", lemon custard cake.
Will give sexual favors for reviews
~OdiPhi