This is a story about cake. It's also a story about a man and his unadulterated love of cake. This man happens to be my husband Ron, a.k.a. "King Ronnie" in our household, or simply "King" on casual days. The simple fact that he married a redhead should be clue enough into his strength and character, but let me just say this man is one tough guy. He is my hero, and my knight in shining armor. Quite simply, I adore him. He would give his life to save mine, and not a day goes by that he doesn't in some way make me feel his love. Now that I've painted you a picture of perfection, let me add that this wonderful man happens to have a quirk or two to go along with all his glowing attributes. Not unlike many people, the King has a love of food, and cake is at the top of his ohhhh, yummm list. Being a chef, I have known people to go to great lengths to get that one Divine piece of cake to make everything in the world seem right. To those of us who love cake, this makes perfect sense, to those who don't "get it"...sorry about your luck. King Ronnie happens to side up with those who would do most anything for that sublime indulgent thing called cake. Sure he has a few favorites, but for the most part if it's good cake, he's all over it. Being a respectful cake lover myself, I would never do anything to a cake that did not in any way honor it. This includes banishing a cake or a portion of it to the garbage can when appropriate. In my mind, eating cake when it is anything but fresh and moist is an egregious crime against this food of sweet love, so I have been known to toss those who have chosen to cross that line. That's where this story really begins, at the end of a fresh apple bundt cake's life. There it sat, with a white fuzzy mantle that looked like icing, but I hadn't iced this particular cake. An interesting looking mold was creeping and crawling all over this thing of beauty, so I bravely forfeited it over to the garbage can. I said a proper good bye, chunked it into the bin, and set about my day. Later that afternoon I arrived home from running errands, only to find my husband King Ronnie standing in the kitchen fuming mad. Oh Lord. He was red in the face mad, and had traces of what looked like foam coming out of his mouth. Not having a clue what could be so terribly wrong, I stood there waiting for the worst. "How could you" he said, "What would possess you" followed, "You know I love apple cake, it isn't your place to throw away the things that I love like that", "You're being so wasteful"! "What were you thinking"? "Why, why, why"...? When he finally came up for air, I realized that he was furious with me for throwing out his beloved cake, and was at that very moment indulging himself in a big fuzzy piece of it. While that explained the white foamy stuff around his mouth, it didn't explain why he thought I would throw a cake away that wasn't in dire straights. That's when the hysterics kicked in on my part. I could not help myself. My uncontrollable laughter sent the King into an even bigger rage. "What's so funny" he managed to get out..while finishing his mouthful. I gathered myself, and wiped the tears of laughter from my face. I simply couldn't believe my husband dug cake out of our garbage can, and ate it! Dear God, this man is far from starving, and we sure as heck aren't impoverished in any way causing the need to dig spoiled food out of the trash. Should I explain, or just let him eat the rest of the cake...hummm...I'd better tell him lest he die of some sort of weird mold spore poisoning. So, I did. I dutifully showed him that the cake was indeed moldy, not iced, and therefore unfit to eat. "You mean that's not icing'?, "Nope". "Oh". "Well, it still tastes good", he claimed. "You shouldn't have thrown it away". As he mumbled on, I pried the fork out of his hand, scraped up what was left of the fuzzy apple cake, and offered it back to the garbage can, still in disbelief and fighting fits of laughter. Cake is good. Cake is comfort. Cake is love, but sometimes cake belongs in the trash.
