Don’t judge me.
For most of my life, I have not liked cheesecake.
“BLASPHEMY!” they shout, the villagers sharpening their pitchforks and lighting the torches. In the face of such uncontrollable anger, I go galumphing off, forced into cheesecake-imposed isolation all the while shouting “I’ve changed! I’ve changed!” Enraged, they see nothing but a dangerous man, unreasoning and lost to this world. After several years of bitter tears, I finally muster the courage to poke my head from the surrounding woodland to find an incensed public waiting to push me back into exile. Alas for foolish declarations! If only I had kept my mouth shut concerning that delightful dessert, if only I had led with my new found love I wouldn’t be playing little spoon to a grizzly who has a terrible habit of stealing the sheets. And how does a grizzly manage to be boney? I mean he weighs 500 pounds and somehow manages to stab me in the side every time he’s chasing salmon in his dreams. Well, at least he’s not dreaming about that cute lady bear two caves down.
The truth of the matter is this: until about a year ago, Oreos had more appeal than an Oreo cheesecake. A PB & J was more tantalizing than a PB CC and a strawberry rubarb pie more desirous than, well, everything. However, the inexorable turnover of taste buds has led to a new, edgier generation, one that would have faced down that crowd of peasants with nothing more than a gleam in their eye and a string of particularly nasty insults comparing various parts of animal anatomy to members of their families.
Armed with these new taste buds, the cloying texture of the treat became a comforting blanket, spreading the deliciousness to as yet unexplored realms of tastiness. I can’t tell you how much of a change this has been. Just today, a buddy of mine brought in some cheesecake whipped up by his lovely ladyfriend. As he dramatically unveiled the culinary creation, my mouth began to water, baptizing those intrepid little taste buds that have so enriched my desserting experiences. The smell was almost rude with how it walked up to me, slapped me in the face and yelled, “this is going to be AWESOME”. Unsure whether to trust such a brazen introduction by a cheeky mix of chemicals, I nonetheless found myself above average excited to dig in.
It was like the liberation of France. Or, you know, the picture of the sailor kissing the girl in New York? It tasted like that. I won’t say that it had the power to make The Room into a good movie, but I will say I would have
thoroughly enjoyed the experience with this cheesecake to keep me company. The Donner party would have totally loved to have some. There was a perfect crust to filling ratio, there a was a hint of caramel topping and I got to have a good-sized piece. It was legendary. Plus, you know what the best part about it was? I had it at the end of lunch. I didn’t eat again for hours. That taste played hide and seek with me for hours and it was wonderful. Just when I thought I had seen the last of it, there it was again. All in all, greatest day of afternoon class in quite some time. Thanks cheesecake, you’re a gem.
So if you’re having a tough day, grab some cheesecake. Then go to the gym. Or go to the gym then get some cheesecake. Just make the gym part of that dance, seriously, the stuff will kill ya. Plus who hates endorphins? Gorgons, that’s who.
Need to detox after your cheesecake? Nick Anderson gives being a herbivore a try.