I spent an hour this morning trying to cook up a deliciously pithy opening hook for this blog entry. Three months have passed since my last posting and I feel the pressure to impress you, my gentle, neglected reader. I want to seduce you with my savory insight.
Unfortunately, wit eludes me at this ungodly hour (4:45 am) and all I can offer is a few crumbs from my creative table, a morsel or two that will hopefully tempt you to pay me a visit again, perhaps on a morning when my humor is as sharp as a cake knife.
For now, I would like to tell you a tale as sweet as buttercream frosting...
Three months ago, I reluctantly kicked the sand off my flip flops, packed up my home, loaded my offspring and Molly Muffin the Wonder Schnoodle into my Jeep, and left our beach side bungalow to start a new life in a colder clime.
I knew the move would be difficult on my sociable, sun-loving children and my bird-chasing, shark-loving schnoodle. After all, who wants to trade the life of a chilled out beach bum for that of an Arctic Icicle?
So, I came up with a plan I hoped would make the journey from Florida to Alaska a more ffulfilling adventure. I called it THE BEST THING WE EVER ATE TOUR. Since we are avid watchers of the Food Network's The Best Thing I Ever Ate, I thought it might be fun to visit some of the restaurants and bakeries mentioned on the show. I did a little research and compiled a list of places in the cities we would be driving through.
Donuts and BBQ in Memphis. Chinese food in Wichita (Who would have thought Kansas would be the mecca for Cantonese Cuisine?). Ice cream and burgers in Denver.
Serendipity Sweetly Intervenes
On a golden summer day in Denver, we ate lunch at the Rocky Mountain Diner (more on that mouth-watering meal in an upcoming post). When our waiter learned of our Best Thing Tour, he glanced suspiciously around and then slid into the booth beside me.
"Listen," he said, in the hushed tones of a skilled operative. "If you're serious about your cuisine quest, skip the White Chocolate Black Bottom Banana Cream Pie and head to Happy Cakes."
"Happy Cakes," I chirped.
"Shh," the wily waiter whispered. "Happy Cakes on West 32nd Avenue. Park on the street. Tell them you want to sample 'Happy Together'".
And with that he was off like James Bond in an Aston Martin.
I was a little suspicious of the officious waiter and his sweet suggestion, but after several l o n g days stuck in the car with bored, bickering children, I thought "Happy Together" was just what we needed.
And so, we accepted the mission and made our way to Happy Cakes.
We soon discovered "Happy Together" was a rich chocolate cupcake with smooth, vanilla bean-flecked buttercream frosting. Aptly named, it proved to be the perfect post-lunch treat to promote familial joy and cohesiveness.
Many things have changed since the last time I posted. Summer has simmered down to fall. The view from my office window is now of a snow-capped mountain and not a white-capped sea. I've left friends and favorite haunts behind for an unwelcome familiar. But one thing has remained the same: my passion for life, love and accidental adventures and my desire to share my experiences with you.
Sometimes, change can feel like a frightening journey down an uncertain road. Sometimes, change can make you sad and bitter. And sometimes, all it takes is a simple detour - or a cupcake - to change your perspective and sweeten your mood.
Further reading on cupcakes: