Our deduction was a simple one at which to arrive in light of common logic and reasoning, but several hurdles - or waist-high walls - needed to be addressed before we could fully realize just how much of a lie the 'cake' indeed was.
+/-
The investigation commenced first with a discussion of the common and foolish saying 'having one's cake and eating it, too.' We decided that this was really the kind of saying which, like so many other anecdotes, says nothing. If 'one' has 'cake,' then why should 'one' not feel obliged to 'eat it?' 'Cake' lacks aesthetic qualities which make it a suitable decoration; when one receives 'cake,' one does not often say to oneself, 'why, this is a fine-looking pastry. I believe I shall place you on my mantle and look longingly at you every day.' The only instance we could think of that could drive a person to not eat said 'cake' is if person is baking the 'cake' for someone else, or perhaps for use in a kind of bartering system (in which, a 'cake' is roughly equivalent to a goat with a bell-collar, two chickens, and a moldy orange). In each of these instances, however, one can easily note that the 'cake' is no longer truly property of the 'one;' thus, 'one' does not 'have' the 'cake' per se, but is rather holding the 'cake' until further use by its final owner, who shall inevitably 'eat' the 'cake.'
Of course, this line of reasoning brings us to another important topic of discussion: is it possible to 'eat' a 'cake' without ever having 'had' the cake? A person could lean over and pilfer a gargantuan maw-full of moist, delicious 'cake' held by someone else, I suppose, but does not the mere 'eating' of the 'cake' imply ownership of said 'cake,' as certainly none other than he who ate it shall 'have' it? No matter what the circumstance, 'eating' a 'cake' - whether owning it prior to the 'eating' or not - implies an inseparable characteristic of 'having' the 'cake' as well - thus, we must always 'have our cake and eat it, too.'
This brings up the existential crisis: what, then, is a 'cake?' Would not what was once known as a 'cake' become un-'cake'-like during the digestive process? What general characteristics define the 'cakitude,' or 'magnitude of cakiness,' of any object labeled a 'cake?' We set out to define just what intrinsic (and, perhaps, extrinsic) values defined 'cakehood.' We looked first at the exterior: a 'cake' is almost certainly of a crusty nature, though not as much as 'bread' and yet more so than its brethren 'the pudding' (in which the proof may be found). It is a fluffy crust, soft, yielding, and rich, composed mostly of sugar, eggs, butter, and flour. The interior is curiously moist and supple, crafted not by conventional convection heating, but instead by steam-heating delivered by the evaporation of a liquid ingredient, usually milk, oil, applesauce, or water, which creates bubbles in the 'cake' as it bakes. Frosting is optional, though almost always composed of either a simple syrup, a sugar-based spread, or a cream-cheese based spread, with other options coming into play based on personal preference. The basics are thus: Soft outer crust with a moist, decadent inner network of microbubble layers. Upon finding the functional definition of 'cake,' we decided that the process of 'eating' a 'cake' does not alter its being so completely as to change it into something other than 'cake.' Note well, however, that during the digestive process what was once known as 'cake' is no longer 'cake,' but instead a concentration of unspeakable evil which does horrible things to waistlines and appetites alike. I digress.
In our findings, however, we became startlingly aware of an advancement in 'cake' technologies - 'cakenology' - the 'cheesecake.' This bastard child of the 'cake' and 'pie' somehow slipped into the realm of 'cakehood' without containing sufficient 'cakiness' to apply for remotely enough 'cakitude' to qualify as a true 'cake.' However, there it was, staring viciously in front of us, coiled like a serpent, ready to envenom us: the 'cheesecake.' Thinking quickly, we decided that the 'cheesecake' is really no more than a 'pie.' Then, it dawned on us: what of other 'pies' with the same characteristics as 'cheesecake?' What of pumpkin, or lemon chiffon, or open-faced mud 'pies?' If 'cheesecake' was considered a cake, certainly 'pumpkin pie,' a creature of nearly the same composition, was worthy of the title of 'pumpkin cake?' Alas, we remembered that a 'pumpkin cake' already exists, adhering beautifully to the original commandments of 'cakiness.' It was then, faced with this existential crisis, that we decided that 'cake' is a lie.
If a 'cake' can be both a 'cake' and a 'pie,' what else could it be? Do 'cakes' have a sentience, much like ourselves? Are they capable of acting upon this existential crisis, of forcing their existence to precede their essence? Could a 'cake' become the next president of the United States? Could a 'cake' become a 'biscuit' ('teacakes!') or a 'muffin,' ('cupcakes!') or, God save us, a 'health food' ('rice cakes!')? We decided then and there, in the bitter mid-Michigan wind, to rename the 'cake' to something more suitable:
The Edible. Edible, formerly entered in common usage as an adjective, would fulfill its oft-neglected role of noun, but this time as a singular. No longer would 'edibles' be items of food - no. 'Edibles' will from now on be what once were 'cakes' and their brethren, the 'cupcake,' the 'teacake', the 'rice cake,' and yes, even the formidable 'wedding cake' (miniature sugar-people excluded). Note: 'edible' is a perfect synonym with 'deliciousness' in its new meaning. The 'cheescake,' however, remains its own class of pastry: the open-faced pie.
No comments:
Post a Comment