King of King Cakes

As hard-core Catholics, my parents cracked down once Ash Wednesday hit. Lent was ON, and there were rules to be followed:

• “Sacrificing” something for the season, and according to Mom, it couldn’t be broccoli.

• No meat on Friday.

• And – again according to Mom – no snacking between meals on Good Friday.

(That last one left me – circa 1984 – scrounging between couch cushions for a lint-y jellybean. Yes, I ate it, and it was delightful.) 

via www.amazon.co.uk
I wonder if Bertie Bott's  has a lint-flavored bean?

So Fat Tuesday was the last gasp till Easter: the day to get your glutton on. The drinks flowed, and, occasionally, beads were worn.

Yet, in all of our celebrations, I never had King Cake till I worked at “As the World Turns.”

The best King Cake in the States?
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This tradition really thrives in Louisiana, but has become popular all over the Southeast. Apparently its popularity did not extend to the North Carolina of my childhood.

But King Cake did make its way to Brooklyn.

Every Monday “As the World Turns” had a production meeting where we’d detail the following week’s shooting schedule. And every Lundi Gras, a King Cake would sit imperiously in the center of the conference table.

Another cake usually held court in the green room, this one sent to Louisiana native Trent Dawson from his very thoughtful fans.

via www.cbs.com
Multiple Emmy Nominee and Champion Mardi Gras partier, Trent Dawson.

Now, I wasn’t immediately under this King’s spell. It took me a few years to get past the cake’s garishness. (Seriously, green, gold AND purple?) But once I did, my tastebuds were ready to throw some beads.

The cake – well, really it’s more like a sweet yeast bread – was delicious. A perfect bite to go along with that cup of coffee. Or shot of rum.

via In The Mix

Alas, there’s no production meeting this year, and I’m not within cake-sharing distance of Trent.

I’m on my own here.

Enter Mam Papaul’s King Cake mix, complete with plastic baby. And yes, I did use green, gold AND purple sugars.

Judging by the looks on my kids’ faces, I think King Cake is destined to become a new Adams family tradition.

Fletcher contemplates a potential soul mate.

Olivia stores enough cake in her cheeks to last the Lenten season.

And judging by my lack of willpower when it comes to refined sugars, I think it’ll be a very Fat Tuesday indeed.