What’s in a King Cake?
Growing up in Louisiana means that my childhood was filled with treats that can only be found in the hot, boot-shaped state. Our local cafe served beignets with lattes and coffees. I’ve spent several afternoons with friends in that little coffee shop chatting while showers of powdered sugar covered our clothes. Football season meant my dad spent an entire day cooking gumbo while the Saints played on the television and smoke slowly filled the house from toasting flour. That evening would be looked forward to with anticipation; a younger me waited eagerly for the moment when the stew was cooked and I could ladle the thick, richly flavored roux with chicken, crabs, sausage, or oysters over rice. Needless to say dinnertime remains a particular favorite of mine.
The unique culinary delights of my childhood gives me slightly different treats to look forward to with the change of seasons. When most people think of February, they think of chocolate, candy hearts, and champagne. Not me. I think of king cake.
Every January, as soon as Christmas and the holidays have ended, our local supermarket puts out a large display of boxes covered in green, gold, and purple. Inside are circular wreaths of a bread-like cake covered in icing and crystal sprinkles that are also the glittering colors of Mardi Gras. The fillings range from apple and chocolate to my favorite, cream cheese. As soon as the displays go up I would ask my mother to bring a brightly colored box home. We would, and we would eat the sweet, gooey, slightly warmed treat with our coffee and fruit or yogurt for breakfast. I have, more than once, eaten a slice for dessert or a mid afternoon snack only to find that this habit made the cake disappear all the faster.
When I decided to come to Penn last spring, I was excited at the new adventure. However, I couldn’t pretend that I wouldn’t miss the February king cake with more than a little sadness. I would have been willing to learn to make one, but, like most freshmen, I found myself in a dorm without access to even a communal kitchen. Thus, I was ready to miss the king cake this year (though I do admit to having had two small ones while home for winter break). Ready, that is, until a gigantic box covered with Mardi Gras designs was sent from home. My parents had found a bakery nearby that baked and shipped king cakes overnight. They even included the traditional little plastic baby concealed inside that was banned from supermarket cakes due to the choking risk it created. I sat down for a bite as soon as I had wrestled the cake from its many layers of wrapping. That cake was easily the most delicious I have ever tasted, a loving reminder of a home and family more than a thousand miles away.
-Chloe Kaczvinsky