Why do some of the prettiest little tea cakes turn out to be the least delicious? It’s as if some cosmic force decrees that in order to be beautiful, we must sacrifice flavor and substance. At least that was the case with a bunch of tea cakes I managed to buy before all hell broke loose in the markets. This little cake looks delectable, like something out of a fairy tale at the precise moment the protagonist was about to faint from starvation.
But the taste? Not at all up to the appearance. It tasted like a lie. Sickly sweet, like store-bought frosting from a can – that gross, manufactured essence of falsity. It leaves one gasping for a hint of something natural and real – butter or vanilla or, Jesus, even Crisco. Anything but the plastic-like putrid fakeness of something masquerading as food.
All that glitters ain’t gold.
