[img]396|left|Alex Campbell||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — This week I celebrated my birthday. We had tofu “ice cream” sandwiches at my preschool. I went out with my Significant Other and a bunch of friends. We had a lovely dinner with lots of laughs, gifts and a resounding edition of the birthday song. It was great.
[img]844|left|||no_popup[/img]The best part of my birthday, however, was my birthday cake. It was part red velvet cake and part cheesecake. Red velvet is my favorite.
I first discovered red velvet cake back in 2002; it was at a barbeque joint. As I picked up my pulled pork sandwich and mashed potatoes to go, there appeared in the distance a gleaming vision of red and white. I had never seen a red cake before. Who knew there was a cake in my favorite color?
I got it home, sampled it, and fell in love. It was sweet, and moist, and unlike anything I had ever tasted before. Since then I have sampled red velvet from California to New York, in cupcake, regular cake, cheesecake and lotion form (Yes, I said lotion. My cousin got me red velvet-scented lotion for Christmas last year).
Did I Really Need to Know?
I didn’t even know until two years ago that red velvet cake was chocolate cake made red with food coloring. A friend of mine revealed the ingredients to me after I had requested/demanded cupcakes for my fortieth. I didn’t really pay attention to what the other ingredients were, and frankly, I didn’t want to know. Some things are best left to the imagination.
In preparation for my birthday this year, I told S.O. I wanted to have dinner with a few friends. I gave him their email addresses, and asked him to take care of it. And I let him. Almost. A couple of days before the big event, I said to him, trying to sound casual, “Did you know that red velvet is my favorite cake?” He said that he did, and reassured me by saying something like, “Don’t worry, baby, I got it covered.” I felt like he had just gotten us in the VIP line to see Prince.
Little did I know how covered he had it. When the moment came to order dessert, the clueless waitress came over and said, “Would anyone like to order dessert?” Everyone was silent, and S.O. made a face in order to convey to the waitress that “it had been taken care of.” I think he was clenching his teeth. She nodded and excused herself, and he got up soon afterwards, most probably to check and make sure.
It Ain’t Heavy. It’s My Cake.
She came back with an entourage of wait staff and the biggest red velvet cheesecake I had ever seen. I blew out the candles, and we dug in. The restaurant we were in has a reputation for enormous portions, and the cake lived up to the rep. Each slice could feed three people; there were nine of us, and maybe twelve pieces of cake. I think we ate four slices. It tasted like heaven on earth.
We took the rest home (I’m not sure which would have been heavier, the cake or a bowling ball). S.O. dutifully cut each slice in half, then put the slices in individual Ziploc bags. There were sixteen bags in all.
I will enjoy my birthday for a long time to come, thanks to my dear one, who paid attention when I mentioned, in a not so subtle way, my favorite cake flavor. Any time you get a hankering for richness that has nothing to do with money, come on over. I’ll give you a bag of heaven.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at campbellalexandra@hotmail.com
