The Icing on the Cake: Finding the Recipe!

I tell myself I am only going to eat vegetables at the birthday party and the soccer party. Its bad enough its that time of year where I have obligatory holiday parties that I have to attend, but my kids parties? Now I have to factor those in too?

In the car I prepare myself for what could be a potential food nightmare. Two parties in a row and then a pre-theater dinner with my girlfriend. Pizza, hot dogs, hamburgers, chips, dip, cookies, birthday cake, soccer cake and maybe even alcohol (very common at Southern California parties.) In the car, I repeat to myself as if in some ritualistic silent prayer, "I will only stick to the vegetables. I will only eat vegetables. I will only eat vegetables. Think carrots. Think tomatoes. Think sugar snap peas. Avoid chips, no matter how much you think you want them, you don't. Do not eat chips. I will not eat chips, dip, pizza, hot dogs or hamburgers and under no circumstances will I touch any cakes! Absolutely NO CAKES!"

Good intentions and self-made pacts and reality are two different stories. At party number one when the hot dogs and hamburgers came out, I felt pangs of hunger and I failed to stick to my vegetables only plan. I blew it! Although, I managed to save myself from the cake, because I don't like ice cream cakes. But then, just I was patting myself on the back for staying away from the cake at party number one, I found myself at party number two with another cake in my face.

What I wasn't counting on was my dear friend tempting me with her homemade cake (a rare commodity in Southern California.) How was I to turn my friend down when she took the time to bake? I have to admit at first glance I was tempted to play the full card. The cake did not look appealing. In fact, the cake (which my friend would be the first to admit) looked ugly, if you can call a cake ugly. Could she not decide what kind of frosting to use and then use both vanilla and chocolate? The cake looked like a chocolate and vanilla swirly mess with the names of the girls on the soccer team written over it.

I figured I would try a bite. Then I would smile and say "great cake" and when she was not looking I would toss the rest. Who knew that I would later refer to this cake as "a drug in the form of a cake?" A cake I would obsess about for the rest of the weekend and probably the rest of my life. I was really blindsided by how the marshmallow and chocolate butter crème frosting complimented each other. The cake was dense, moist and fudgy and when combined with the frosting could only be described in words as "sinful." Sinful in that it tastes great and comes with the taste great price tag: all the fat and calories to boot!

I vowed as I was eating the cake I would never ask for the recipe, but as soon as I made the vow, I found myself telling my friend she could make me this cake for Christmas, Valentine's Day, Easter, my birthday, my children's birthdays and on and on and on. Any holiday or occasion that requires a cake! She laughed as I warned her, "Under no circumstances, no matter how desperate I seem, are you to give me the recipe for this cake!" Like any good friend she promised. She would never allow me to have her recipe. Or the recipe she obtained from her friend Carline (its a good thing I don't know Carline), who obtained the recipe from a neighbor.

And just as those promises were made, I found myself going home with the cake leftovers.
Okay, I admit I have no willpower and when the cake was offered, I “so” needed more (can you tell I have an eleven-year-old by my language?) I really felt I needed to have some samples, so my husband could taste the cake I claimed I was never going to know how to make, but wanted him to know existed. I had enough to share and have one last indulgence and then I made another pact I would forget the cake. I would block the cake out of my mind. How? I was not sure, but I figured I would find away, even if I needed a hypnotist. Well, I would not go that far....

As I left the party with the last three pieces of cake, I did what any responsible adult in Southern California would do after overindulging. I made a date to exercise. "We will walk about a hundred miles on Monday? Right?" I asked my friend. "After all you are the one who tempted me with your cake creation." She agreed to help me with my post excess caloric intake exercise.
I left feeling confident that if I didn't share the three pieces of cake with my husband, there would be redemption on Monday in the form of a long walk. Although, in an attempt to avoid temptation, I phoned my husband to let him know I was bringing him treats. Or
“one piece of cake” is what I said. In the end, my husband ate two pieces and I only had one. I somehow, by the grace of God, managed to have some willpower.

I survived Sunday without calling my friend for the recipe (even though I thought about calling) and on our Monday morning walk I reminded her of her promise to never give me the recipe. We joked with another friend about how the cake was "sinfully good." Then my friend slipped and called the cake by name. "Mississippi Mud Cake," she called it. I thought to myself, I had heard of "Mississippi Mud Pie" but I was convinced there was no way that "Mississippi Mud Cake" could be the name of her cake. I knew it was only a matter of time before I had my answer. The internet. If she was right, I would have the recipe. I had made her promise to never give me the recipe, but I never promised myself I wouldn't find it.

I couldn't walk fast enough without making our morning walk a run. I was on a mission. If her name was right, I would have the recipe of the "sinful cake." If she was wrong, I would be saved from a lifetime of temptation to bake it. As soon as I got home, I found the answer! TO BE CONTINUED........