thinkingnow

Well, frankly. why? If it's your birthday,and mine's impending, which is maybe why I'm remixing the cake question, people always assume it's going to involved chocolate cake, preferably in huge sticky slabs. Will we never move on from here? The only direction of progression seems to be ever deeper into the chocolate. It's not that I actively dislke chocolate, in fact I'm developing a tendency to buy a few truffles to get me through the Christmas shopping, just that I think that there must be more to cake and frankly I feel I'm probably missing out on something if I don't diversify a bit. Maybe setting up a support group for chocolate escapers, for those who politely fork their way through a friend's birthday tea, secretly fantasising about lemon drizzle. Or something meltingly orangey with spices and butter cream.
I was queueing in a cafe this evening with a friend who I wanted to buy a treat for, because, as I said above, it's my birthday shortly. 'What cake have you got?' she asked. I gazed sadly at their chiller cabinet, taller than me, which is usually stuffed with
with chocolate, passable cheesecakes (two varieties), fruit cake, and more items to cheer up a bleak Wednesday after work, but it was bare, barren, entirely empty. 'Chocolate', he said, pointing to something circular and ready sliced under a plastic dome behind the counter. She ordered some, but I had this sinking feeling that they had nothing else to offer of a sugary nature, not even a stale blueberry muffin (what on earth is the attraction of blueberry muffins, or even blueberries?) I was right. I ended up with soggy garlic bread with mozzarella on top. The options were: chocolate cake, or the set menu, and no explanations.

Next time you're stuck in Norwich station waiting for the railbus that will shake your skeleton all the way to your coveted weekend break by the sea, try the station cafe. The decor is nothing to blog to the world about, but the cake! Almost compensates for losing an hour . A huge slice, oozing a rich lemony syrup through airy sponge,with crunchy bits of pale icing drizzled over the top. Don't tell them that at a London terminal they would charge you twice the price for a rock hard smidgeon wrapped in plastic.

In my view not all toothache is caused by what your dental surgeon would call decay. Things that drive you mad, stuff you put up with because it seems like the best thing to do at the time all seems to have an effect. And what's the point of having an Xray, paying for a checkup, having your nice enamel that you've spent years polishing, flossing & rinsing drilled away at high speed, plus enduring anaesthesia and a numb mouth that you can't drink properly with for hours after, if what you really need is to lie down in a darkened room under a cosy duvet with your favorite music, and drift off into oblivion till tomorrow morning?

This morning I was on a train with an aching upper jaw wondering how much worse it was going to get, then got off in Bexhill (no, don't knock Bexhill, the English seaside in November is interestingly melancholy), experienced a strange video and experimental music installation, took a bracing walk by the grim autumn waves and got my aching jaws around some lemon drizzle cake. That's a blog in itself, lemon drizzle.