Suing For Cream Cheese FrostingPosted: April 13, 2015
My friends, I was wronged. For more than a week now, I’ve struggled with the shock of the deception perpetrated upon me. I’ve told myself to put it behind myself. I can’t.
I can’t and I won’t.
On Easter, I enjoyed brunch with my wife at one of our favorite establishments. This restaurant (which I won’t name due to my intent to take legal action against everyone in the place who took part in wronging me) is a favorite of ours.
Easter was different than our usual visits. The food was still good. But instead of the usual menu, there was a huge buffet. And while I enjoyed the entrees and vegetables that I picked out, my mind was on the dessert table. Right in the middle of that table was a carrot cake.
I love carrot cake.
Carrot Cake Doesn’t Make Sense
Did I mention that I love carrot cake? I do.
A cake with vegetables in it should, in principle, be inedible. Vegetables and dessert should never mix. That is why dessert comes on a separate plate. And yet, vegetables and dessert merge beautifully in carrot cake. A pastry chef might explain that the cake works because of the natural sweetness of the carrots. I’d explain that I prefer to think of it as a miracle.
Carrot cake is a miracle. Turning vegetables into cake and turning water into wine – I can’t be the only one who sees the parallel. And consider the star of any carrot cake, cream cheese icing. What level of skilled alchemist did it take to turn cheese into a sweet accent for a vegetable dessert?
Yes, I love carrot cake. I do.
It Looked Perfect
And I knew that carrot cake was on the dessert table, on a pedestal above all the other confections. I should have realized that one carrot cake would not handle the dessert needs of everyone in that restaurant. Carrot cake is a miracle, but it’s not exactly five loaves and two fish.
The carrot cake was gone when I returned. A pile of crumbs, a few nuts, and the dregs of some icing were all that remained on the pedestal. I went back to our table without what would have been the highlight of the meal. A waitress came by and asked if everything was OK. My wife took a shot at easing the pain of my loss.
“We saw a carrot cake earlier, but it’s gone. He loves carrot cake”. The waitress smiled. “No problem”, she said, “there were carrot cupcakes too, I’ll get you one.” In a moment, I had my cupcake.
Looks Can Be Deceiving
The cupcake was beautiful, a tiny carrot cake that seemed as if it was made just for me. The dark, rich cake. The smooth, off-white frosting. The little orange and green carrot made with piped icing to distinguish this cupcake from its brethren. But this cake was not made just for me.
A cake that was made just for me would have actual cream cheese icing, not cream cheese colored icing. White butter-cream icing does not go on a carrot cake, ever. I don’t know, but I feel certain that improperly icing a carrot cake would be grounds for dismissal from any reputable culinary school. If it isn’t, it should be.
What’s more wrong than carrot cake without cream cheese icing? Adding the little icing carrot on top. That icing carrot is a consumer’s assurance that all is right with their carrot cake – that it has the proper amount of sweet, cinnamon-y, moist goodness in the baked part of the dessert and that it is finished with cream cheese icing. By adding that decorative carrot, the chef deceived me into accepting a cake that he knew was substandard.
Chef, I Will See You (And Your Lying Pastry Bag) In Court
Adding the icing carrot to a substandard cake does not turn it in to the carrot cake that I love any more than gluing feathers on to a trout makes that fish into a chicken.
A reasonable man can accept that a restaurant might only have a certain number of servings of a given food available. When those servings are gone, that same reasonable man can accept, with disappointment, that he will not enjoy that particular dish on that day.
I am, despite what others might tell you, a reasonable man. I was prepared to accept that I wasn’t having carrot cake. I was not prepared for, nor will I accept, being served an impostor cupcake. The orange and green icing carrot on my cupcake was a binding contract between the restaurant and me. It promised me the cake experience that I expected and paid for, but that promise was a deception.
The cake that I got was not capable of delivering on the promise made implicit by the presence of the icing carrot.
The restaurant wronged me, and I will not take this offense lying down. Legal action will follow.
No justice, no peace.