A Letter To Carrot CakePosted: April 3, 2013
Dear Carrot Cake,
I can’t imagine eating any other cake that is based on vegetables. I don’t want beet cake. Green pepper cake is not for me. Somehow it makes a difference that you’re full of carrots. Eating you keeps me from going blind, in that way you are one of a kind.
There’s a bit of cinnamon in you; that’s very cool. Even better, you hold hidden treats to surprise me. I might find a nut in one bite, a raisin in the next. Sometimes you’ve even got a bit of coconut for me; not too much, just a hint.
You and Chocolate are my top cakes. Sure, I’ll eat yellow or white cake, but I don’t look forward to them. Yellow and white, those aren’t flavors. No one knows what colors taste like, except possibly people who are on LSD.
I am not on LSD. Tasting yellow isn’t within my range. I get you, Carrot, and our friend Chocolate too.
Carrot Cake, of all the things about you that I enjoy, the most valuable is that you understand why you exist. When you arrive at a table, you understand that you are not the flashy star of the plate. That role goes to Cream Cheese Icing.
But as much as I love Cream Cheese Icing, I could not sit down with a bowl of it and a spoon. Nor would I sit down and have a big slice of you, un-iced. Neither of those would be enjoyable. You’re a cakey Keith Richards, adding tasty riffs to the showy performance of your frosting Mick Jagger.
Let’s face it, no one buys solo records by Richards or Jagger. We’ve all got a ton of Rolling Stones music in our collections though. Well, perhaps you don’t, because your time on this earth is brief. If you were staying, trust me, you’d have a lot of Stones on the iPod. But my point is this – I’m glad you and your partner put aside your differences to perform together. You make each other better. Together, you’re always worth the price of admission.
P.S. Please don’t take offense that I never call for an encore. It isn’t that I don’t enjoy your work. It’s that a good thing becomes too much really fast once you hit fifty.