Cakeism: Dear Lord fill my soul and arteries with sweet sweet love…

October 26, 2011 § 1 Comment

Fruit Tart. Wait.... that's an understatement. What do you call a really - like really, really, really good fruit tart??

Oh. God. I did not just walked into a lamp post because the lid of my cake box was blocking my line of vision.

But listen. Listen – My fruit tart is singing!  Please don’t say it was just a fruit tart – for fruit tarts don’t normally make me smile stupid like this. The strawberries, the kiwis, the rasberries and mandarines were mindblowingly fresh, and the custard – my god, an edible swimming pool in august. The whole thing was exactly what a garden on a swimming pool would taste like if it is translated into a dessert.

Feel me?

Hark the harold my cake sings.

Listen, going to Pastiche, is frankly the closest thing I’ve done to a pilgrimage in my life. It’s like going to church, but instead of bread and wine, you get cake. We worship at the altar of the old fashion coconut cake, and whisper prayers of faith into the depths of the banana cream pie. Our sermon? The beautiful crack sound that forms itself as the spoon hits the golden, caramelized surface of the butterscotch creme brulee.

I would travel 4 hours to Providence, trek over the supposedly famous river which I’ve forgotten the name of, pass street after street of Mafia operated restaurants – and behold, there it is – Pastiche.

Pastiche. Pas – teeeee – chhhhhhhhh. I would articulate Pastiche’s name like Humbert Humbert does Lolita’s.

Cakeism. My religion of the day.

Old Fashion Coconut Cake.

Being friends with you is unhealthy.

First time Pastiche encounter. A week ago. From bottom left: Banana Cream Pie, Butterscotch Creme Brulee, Torta Di Cioccolata with Rasberry Sauce and Whipped Cream, Coconut Cake.

3 minutes later...

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