Cake: a truly sorry excuse for pie

Everyone has that one day of the week when they’re being buried in stress, down on themselves and looking for light in a cruel world. We all cope with it in different ways. Some  read, some watch movies, some hang out with friends and some even exercise. I eat pie.

I call a day like this “Pie Day,” though in truth Pie Day is any day you need pie, which is probably every day of the week. You can imagine my shock when on pie day, Bobs had no pie. As a result, the closest thing to pie of the week is Frosted White Cake, or as I like to call it, “Not Pie.”

The plating of the Not Pie was about average in every way possible. It was simply a three-dimensional white rectangle, with a dark brown chocolate frosting on top. Plated a little sloppy, the dish was far from Lady Gaga, having about the interest as the top of an office desk. If you wanted to replicate the plating at home, you could simply place your calculator upon a plate, or a cardboard box upon the floor.

The texture of the pie was neither smooth nor moist. When I first tried to eat it, the dark frosting tore off from the very top layer of the white cake. This segregation contributed to a failure of the dish to combine texturally in my mouth, as the frosting did little to integrate with the actual body of the cake. In addition, the actual cake, while not dry, was lacking moisture necessary for a great cake. Proper wetness is necessary for any good baked good: muffins, dessert bread, cookies, and especially cake.

Textural problems aside, the taste of the Not Pie was about average for its class. The white cake had little special about it, having all the excitement of a confetti cake without the rainbow sprinkles. Fortunately, the chocolate frosting still contained the sweet fix college students need. Chocolate in general being the liquid of the gods, the slab of chocolate was worth eating the lackluster cake.

College regular Ben Brougham was far from impressed. “It really lives up to the name ‘shitty white cake,’” he said. He was equally disappointed that Bobs did not have pie that day, and had settled on the Not Pie as the closest thing to pie. Brougham sat there with a mound of crumbled white cake on his plate, having eaten the frosting first. Looking disdainfully down at the pile, he uttered it would more accurately be classified as a “most crumbly biscuit.”

With an unimpressive plating, texture, and taste, as well as a negative take from Brougham, the Not Pie clearly has little going for it. Then again, what can we realistically expect from something that isn’t pie? On a scale of 1 to banana cream, the Not Pie is equivalent to trying to find the area of a circle without a calculator: it only creates a longing for pie.

Leave a Reply