Having my cake & eating it, too — here’s how I do it

I didn’t get lemon drizzle, I got chocolate cake — a gooey one. Not the one pictured either, the cake was crumbs when I thought about this post. And I didn’t make it, I bought it. If I’d made it then it would’ve been a biscuit and I probably would’ve just eaten the frosting out of the tub with a spoon. Mmm, sometimes the frosting is the best bit.

So I bought the cake, got home, and had a test slice to make sure it wasn’t poisoned. I wouldn’t want to be poisoned! The problem with poison is that it might only work cumulatively (depending on dosage) so I had to have a second and third test slice to be sure. It’s best practice to always be thorough.

Once satisfied, I made myself a cup of tea and had myself a slice. And a second ’cause there was still tea to drink.

I then wrote for a little, considered the list of things I have to do so I’m ready for tomorrow (I’ve decided there’s still time enough today to achieve), and made another cup of tea.

Now this cake has been out a while and the cut bits can get really dry so I was required to have a mini slice to determine its freshness.

Moist and gooey, just how I like it — so alright, we’re cool.

Potter about a bit, do what I do — make a cup of tea and it’s the freshness issue again, isn’t it? I’m like the Lab at Portsmouth Water. They continually check the water to make sure it’s good to drink, so not only is this mini slice (and all subsequent) continued quality control, I’m also checking to make sure there’s no pathogens in it, like bad bugs or something that could do folks harm.

I’m doing society a great service by eating this cake.

Potter, you know how it goes — tea and quality control.

And then dinner time, dessert — warmed chocolate cake with a dollop of ice-cream (one must have variation). Quality control slices, of course, both before and after. The latter to assure the cake isn’t stressed after seeing itself microwaved.

After dinner tea with a slice of cake.

Another.

And then the guilt of leaving the little bit to its loneliness forced me to eat what was left.

 

Tomos James