But at the very least I can be there in spirit. Many of you may remember my extensive journals from the last time I was back home for Mardi Gras, but my recaps failed to include a vitally important Mardi Gras tradition, that of the King Cake. And luckily, thanks to my family, I'm able to partake in the King Cake tradition once again.
I was talking to one of my law school buddies who went to Tulane, and he was telling me how he didn't much care for King Cake. I was shocked and appalled, and after careful inquiry, I realized the reason why--he had only had the crappy version that you get at the local grocery store. He had not had the experience of getting a fresh cake from a bakery, where they take special pride in this dessert. Growing up, during the Mardi Gras season, I looked forward to getting the weekly treat that one of my classmates would bring in, indulging in the icing and cream cheese and cinnamon and strawberry, always hoping to find the little plastic Baby Jesus, the most glorious of all the forms of Jesus, and looking to be King for a Day.
Thank God I'm still not living down there, because I'd be an even greater fatass than I am now. I got the cake on Friday, and after a few days of eating moderate slices with Mr. Zhuang, we were left with nearly half a cake and staleness looming large; we bit the bullet today and ate the rest of the cake, letting Fat Tuesday live up to its name. So how was your Tuesday?
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