Food: A Love Story (34 page)

BOOK: Food: A Love Story

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JUST DESSERTS

Dessert is special, and as a result it is treated differently. In some restaurants, desserts get their own menu. In diners and truck stops, desserts are sometimes put in a rotating glass case like they are an artifact or some of Queen Elizabeth’s jewelry. I’m not sure what the intended response is supposed to be. “I didn’t want dessert before, but now that I see pudding at that angle, I gotta get me some!”

When I was growing up, my family had dessert only on special occasions like birthdays or holidays. My children live in a different world. Dessert is not a luxury. It’s a right. If my four-year-old, Katie, doesn’t ask about dessert four times in an evening, I assume she is sick or there is going to be a tornado. Dessert is special for everyone. That’s why it’s saved until last. If that exclusive spot after the meal were not reserved for dessert, what would stop anyone from just ordering dessert instead of the meal?

It is my belief that all desserts are just a form of either ice cream or cake.

ICE CREAM: FOREVER YOUNG

Just about everyone has a fond memory of eating ice cream as a child. It is rare to find a child looking disappointed while eating ice cream. As much as eating ice cream can make a child look happy, indulging in the exact same ice-cream-eating behavior makes an adult look pathetic. This is because ice cream
is for children. Everyone
likes
ice cream, but it’s really for kids. Ice cream trucks, ice cream cones, and the sprinkles that go on the ice cream are for children. Kids get ice cream. Adults get alcohol. It’s only fair. Unfortunately, just like kickball, silly birthday parties, Disney, and diapers, ice cream has been co-opted by adults. Admittedly, I am an adult and I eat ice cream, but I’m not proud of it. I’m not going to walk around in broad daylight eating ice cream like some kind of fat, good-looking loser. Some things are better kept behind closed doors in the privacy of your own home. Every adult should know that the appropriate place to eat ice cream is on the couch in front of the TV, watching TLC. “(
mouthful of ice cream
) See, those
Hoarders
, they’re the ones with the problem!”

The way we adults rationalize eating ice cream is rather pitiful. “It’s hot outside. Let’s get some ice cream.” “My boyfriend broke up with me. I’m going to have some ice cream.” “My name is Jim Gaffigan. I’m going to eat some ice cream.” It’s always bittersweet when there is no ice cream in our home. Mostly because this means I just ate a pint of ice cream. I’ll try to blame it on one of the babies, but I find it hard to explain the ice cream stains on my shirt. I mostly eat ice cream at night in sweatpants, the uniform of ice cream eating. I’ll toss the lid even before I start eating the pint, because I’m not a quitter. Occasionally Jeannie will inquire, “Are you going to eat the entire pint of ice cream by yourself?” I answer, “Hopefully. Unless you selfishly want a bite.”

There was a time back in the ’80s when adults remembered that ice cream was for children. Frozen yogurt was presented as a healthier, adult version of ice cream. There was even nonfat frozen yogurt that meant you could eat delicious frozen yogurt without the fat. I don’t know why I find fro-yo so annoying. Some friends in college would replace lunch with nonfat frozen yogurt. “We are going out for fro-yo.” They would announce it like they were about to eat a salad or go jogging. I couldn’t
express my joy enough when it was revealed that nonfat fro-yo, while it had no fat, had all the calories of regular ice cream because it was loaded with sugar. People again had to face the fact that eating ice cream really was for children. So the grown-up ice cream eater went back into hiding.

Suddenly in the ’90s an ice cream company from Vermont named Ben & Jerry’s burst onto the national scene and made it not only possible but also cool for adults to come out of the closet as ice cream eaters. The Ben & Jerry’s feel-good social agenda helped soften the reality of eating ice cream for adults. “I can eat ice cream with candy in it
and
help the environment? I’m eating this pint for the Earth.” My dream job would be to be the guy who comes up with those Ben & Jerry’s recipes. Now,
that’s
a great job. How could anyone complain about that job? I imagine that guy or gal just comes into work early in the afternoon. “What do I feel like binging on today? Let’s see … Reese’s, Snickers, vanilla ice cream, and a caramel swirl. Let’s call it, um, ‘Fat Daddy.’ Well, see you guys tomorrow. I’m going to go take a nap.”

Two hands!

LET THEM EAT CAKE

People tend to behave differently around different food. For example, being around vegetables can make people lose their appetites and the close proximity of cake turns people into neurotic messes. Cake has such a magnetic effect. It is difficult to pretend you are not mesmerized by its captivating presence. Everyone wants to devour the cake as soon as they see it, or at least dip a finger in the frosting, but you have to exercise restraint around your peers lest they discover that you truly have no impulse control. To cover up your greediness, you have to act bashfully ignorant of the existence of cake. “What is this called,
cake
? Well, I guess I’ll try it. I’ve never tried cake before.” We can’t simply enjoy cake. People eat cake like they are committing adultery: “Don’t tell my husband I’m doing this.” This strange behavior is driven by the fact that cake is a true symbol of gluttony. If you eat a whole pizza, your friends might respond, “Wow, you were hungry.” But if you eat a whole cake, friends will say, “You have a problem.” Eating cake is not like drinking alcohol.
You never hear someone brag, “Yeah, last night I had four pieces of cake.”

“Why are you telling us?”

“I just wanted you to know I partied.”

Mikey takes after his father.

Cake is a social food. It must be eaten with someone else or in a group. There is something profoundly sad about eating cake while you are alone. Believe me, I do it all the time. The bonus of cake is that it’s not just cake. It’s usually cake with frosting on top.
Frosting
is a fancy name for sugar mixed with grease. I’ll never forget the time I found a tub of frosting in a cabinet when I was ten. I remember thinking,
Wow, it would be really pathetic to eat this, but here goes.

Given that we all know cake is bad for us, we often try to hide the fact that we are eating it. We have masterfully created
socially acceptable ways to disguise cake so we can eat it whenever we want. “It’s breakfast and I obviously can’t eat cake. I’ll have a muffin.” You know the difference between a muffin and a cupcake? Nuffin. A muffin is just a bald cupcake, and we all know it. If the muffins weren’t absurd enough on their own, there are also mini-muffins. How much denial are we in when we are eating mini-muffins? “Oh, I’m just going to have one or twelve. They are so small they don’t really count. They are like muffin vitamins, really. When I eat them, I feel like an astronaut.” We all know we are not supposed to have cake for breakfast, unless it’s a
pan
cake. I’m not sure how that one slid through. “Young man, you’re not having cake for breakfast! You’re having fried cake with syrup for breakfast. Now, load up on that and try not to nap.” Pancakes definitely make you lower your expectations for the day. “Well, looks like I’m not showering today. I’ll be digesting those carb-cakes for the next eight hours.”

The Power

Cake’s power over us is undeniable. How else would you explain anyone’s participation in a cakewalk, which is just musical chairs with the possibility of winning an entire cake? It should be noted that it is a cakewalk, not a cakesit. Maybe the chance of winning a cake is used as a way to motivate people to move. Cake is so powerful, it can actually bring people together.