The Dangerous Lure of Chocolate Frosting

“And yet the sweetness dragged me in and beguiled me.” And again “And yet the sweetness dragged me in and beguiled me.” Those are the words I want you to consider. They are the subject for today.

And that, as Chapter three of Heston Blumenthal’s Great Cakes of the World’ has said, could so easily be that, were it not for the chocolate in the icing.

Like you, I have cried “Enough! Enough for I am sated! Speak of these things no more, for all will be lost should you continue!” And, like you, I was lost, and am now found, and now worship at the feet of The Chocolatey Mistress.

I, like you, have sat in churches of the other great religions, those from where the postulants at The Chocolate Cake Church have arrived to worship the Chocolatey Mistress, and have been bewildered by the priest, intoning blessed mumbo and blessed jumbo, while not understanding a word thereof.

And so my topic today is the dangerous lure of chocolate frosting. I speak of this form certain knowledge, for, in my fridge, on baking parchment, I have the spare chocolate frosting that was left over from the cake baked in celebration of my father-in-law’s birthday of some 80 summers.

I was tempted.

I yielded to that temptation.

I yielded and tasted first one morsel, and then more.

And, having tasted more, it came to pass that the remainder of the frosting and I were united.

Ask yourself: In that position, were oyu to be at the door to the refrigerator, would you have yielded? And, if you would, or if you would not, would that be a meet and fit manner in which to give thanks to The Chocolatey Mistress?

I have no answers.

I know only that the lure was great.

I offer you no solutions, I offer you only words.

“In the name of the Mother, The Mistress, and the Cake, Amen.”