Oh, dessert. How I love to make dessert. As for eating it? Well, yes, I love that, too, but I come by that naturally. According to my father’s family, a little “something good” was a necessary component of any decent meal. Pastry at breakfast, maybe some cookies after lunch, and a bowl of ice cream or some cake to end the day. My mom often tried to appeal to our sense of moderation by reminiscing about how they didn’t eat dessert every day growing up in her family, that it was considered a treat, but – not surprisingly – this failed to turn the tide her way.
As I got older, I started to become a little bit of a sweets snob, though. Hostess treats aren’t too much of a “treat” after all, and I can think of nothing worse than getting a dry, artificial-tasting piece of chocolate cake at a restaurant. And they’re going to charge me $7.00 for it? Oh, talk about ruining a perfectly good meal! No, thank you; I’ll make it myself. A love of baking combined with touch of a cookbook obsession makes for a woman always thinking about her next delicious dessert. Unfortunately, I married a man who isn’t that big on the sweet stuff. He’ll eat them sometimes, sure, but not every day. Certainly not enough for me to be able to convince myself that I was not the one that at 3/4 of the cake/pie/gallon of Blue Bell. On the other hand, when I say “unfortunately”, that’s not quite fair; it’s probably the only thing separating me from Type II Diabetes and/or a scratching stick. So we’re cutting back on my beloved sweets now, and plan to enjoy them as a treat. For me, this highlights the fact that I may share many of my father’s traits, but lack his strength of conviction when it comes to the proper way to enjoy food, not to mention his knack for asserting those convictions upon others.
Can I just tell you how happy I am to have been tapped to bring a dessert to a party this weekend, though? All of the fun with none of the lingering snacker’s remorse!