My husband and I have been trying to make healthier choices lately. For his Father’s Day dinner, I whipped up freshly caught snapper fillets, grilled red potatoes and asparagus sprinkled with Parmesan cheese. He proceeded to dip his fish in a garlic butter sauce, but hey it’s his day. Earlier in the day I questioned him on a dessert choice. He bounced around a few options: cheesecake, white cake with fluffy icing, Peanut Butter Tandy cake, or an ice cream cake. He was still deciding when I saw it.
I’d opened the Publix flyer in the Sunday paper and what to my wondering eyes should appear….the perfect cake. It was tall with three, count them, three layers of white cake. Stuffed in between each layer was a white fluffy berry filled cream of frosting. The entire cake was iced with this to die for frosting. I couldn’t wait to cut into that mountain of frosting.
At 7:00 on the dot, I nonchalantly asked if he was ready for dessert. The man has willpower. He replied, “Not yet.” I sprang from the sofa and ran to the refrigerator. “I’m ready,” I yelled from the kitchen as I fought to open the box. I have no shame.
In my defense, I did choose a berry cake: strawberries, blueberries, raspberries are all healthy choices. That delicious cream frosting will surely preserve my bones until I’m eighty. I cut a fairly large piece. I usually would have half of that, but I didn’t want the fruit to go bad and my joints were a little stiff that day. It was purely medicinal as osteoporosis prevention.
I cannot put into words how delicious that cake was. When Scott was ready, I cut him a piece and topped it with vanilla ice cream. He swears my piece was bigger than his. He was probably right, but I defended my cake cutting division. I really ate half of his and tried to cover it with extra ice cream.
This morning, the first words out of his mouth were, “I think you had a bigger piece of that cake last night.” I giggled.
“Let’s have it for breakfast.” I was serious. It has fruit so it’s a healthy choice in my book. My book also shows me with rather large hips, so maybe that’s not my best reference. When he left for work, I took a picture of the cake for this story. It looked a bit messy so I sliced a little off each side so you could see the beauty of the layers. I did this for my readers! Then I wiped the whipped cream off my camera. It still looked a bit messy so I sliced another small piece from each side. I can be such a perfectionist when whipped icing is involved.
I plan to sneak another piece at lunch. When Scott comes home from work, we will discuss how the cake shrunk. I will blame the refrigerator. Maybe I can use the excuse that the chill of the fridge dehydrated the fruit so it appears smaller.
If that were true, I’d stuff myself into the fridge for the morning.
Just me and the cake….Now that’s a happy Monday!