Jun. 15th, 2010

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While shopping for something sweet for the boys at the vacation house in Florida this Memorial Day weekend, I came across one of my absolute favorite desserts in the world:  Tres leches Cake. 

What is Tres Leches Cake?  If you want specifics use the Google.  To my palate it's just bliss on a plate; a creamy, moist, sweet cake soaked in three different types of milks...hence the name...gifted to us from our friends south of the border. 

If immigrants came to the boarder carrying Tres Leches Cakes even the most  hard core of teabagging, Arizona Republicans would welcome them with open arms....and forks....

Tres Leches Cake:  The answer to illegal immigration.  Someone get the White House on the phone. 

On the day in question, I bought the divine bounty for the house but it was fallen upon by the beach starved bears like the last tablet of E dropped onto the dance floor of a twink bar.

I only got a small piece of my cake.  I wanted more.

At the suggestion of Evil Friend Jack's husband Sugarbaker......yes he's southern and yes he's a Sugarbaker through and through....EFJ and I went to a Win Dixie near their palatial family estates in Mobile, AL find more Tres Leches Cake.  Sugarbaker was out of town and that left only me and Evil Friend Jack to cut into the cake...

...and I knew I could cut his hamstrings without too much trouble to keep him away from my share of the cake if needed.

While Jack circled the Win Dixie on his own, no doubt looking for booze and wallets to steal, I went directly to the bakery section of the store to find my beloved cake.  Alas, I did not see the my treasured carb log anywhere.

"Cain Ah helyp yoo?" a heavily accented southern voice said from behind me.  Her nametag said "Janice!".  I thought we'd be instant friends.  I was wrong.

"Yes ma'am.  I'm afraid my sweet tooth has gotten ahold of me something fierce."  Suddenly I sounded like Luke Duke and verily I felt shame.  I cant help it.  Southern accents do that to me sometimes.

"Well we have these apple pies over here on the sale rack!"  Janice piped in eagerly.  "They're just a dollar!" 

The thought of an entire pie for a dollar gave me pause for a second...decisions decisions...but I knew what I wanted and I wasnt going to be distracted by sassy accents, big hair, or sales.

"Actually a friend of mine told me I could find a Tres Leches Cake here and I'm hoping you have one in the back somewhere with my name on it."  Luke Duke was going into remission.

"A Tray what?"  Janice said through a face that looked contorted enough to be really painful.

"A Tres Leches Cake? It's a mexican dessert that's a cake soaked in three kinds of milk?  Whole milk...evaporated milk...condens..."

"Oh no honey...I've never even heard of that.  We'd NEVER carry something like THAT around here."  ...and by "around here" I began to see the rust flaking off of Janice's southern bell charm.

"Well ok," I said politely. "A friend suggested I try this bakery and since we're so far south I just assumed that..."

"Never assume, sugar." Janice said pointedly as she cut me off.  "We dont have any of that Tray Leeches cake thing you were asking about but we do have a whole shelf here of apple pies.  AMERICAN apple pies...all for $1 each."

Now, I was on vacation and my verbal sparing muscle was caught completely off guard.  Two or three half formed zingers sprung to mind to hurl into the face of Janice's AMERICAN apple pie attitude but nothing wanted to gel into the perfect "screw you bitch" comment I needed to ignite Janice's big aqua net southern hair into the Hindenberg of hairdo's. 

Seriously.  I'd been drinking ALL week.  

As much as I wanted to set Janice's perfectly tweezed...perpetually surprised looking...eyebrows ablaze, I knew my wit misfire was probably for the best.  I was in an honest to god real life Win-Dixie in the deep south and surrounded on all sides by "Janices." In the end, I believe I just gave her my best "You're so lucky I drank 3/4's of a big bottle of Jagermeister two days ago and cant brain today" smile and said no thank you to the pies as I walked off rather gobsmacked by her in-your-face nationalism.

I should have goose stepped.

I found Evil Friend Jack in aisle two..the liquor aisle of course...laying drunk and half awake with a nearly empty bottle of cheap Merlot clutched in his little tree hugging hands.  Of course I told him all about Janice and of course we had to walk over together so I could point her out to him so that he too could deliver upon her the Gay Heat Vision of Scorn. 

She noticed us looking as we walked by.  I waved.  A fruity, little, gay queen of a wave just to let  her know that while she was questioning my patriotism she'd also breathed in my second hand gay. 

I hope her lungs burned all night. 

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August 2011

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