My latest quandary revolves around cake.
In early January, I found a wonderful menu online for the Mediterranean diet. When I was still working, I stuck close to recipes I’d cooked all my life —mostly beans and greens and cornbread—because of time constraints. Now that I have retired, I have time, energy, and inclination to try new things, and I’m loving that privilege.
Since starting the diet, I haven’t even been tempted to eat sweets or meat or milk products other than those that are included on the diet. Breakfasts have included egg whites and avocado on whole grain toast or blueberries stirred into whipped ricotta. Dinners have revolved around salmon or tuna served on a bed of greens and cous cous or quinoa. Desserts have consisted of dates, stuffed with a little feta cheese and a piece of walnut or dried mangoes or figs.
But two days ago, someone posted a King Cake on Facebook, and my universe tilted on its axis.
The bigger story might be that Facebook’s new algorithm that enjoys scolding users for questionable, though somewhat random, vocabulary choices or photos, banned one of the King Cake posts because it included the plastic baby that is traditionally hidden in a piece of the cake. The post apparently broke Facebook’s “nudity” rule. My story, however, is that now I am craving my yearly fix of iced cinnamon roll sprinkled with green and purple sugar and stuffed with cream cheese, custard, or jam—certainly not on the Mediterranean menu.
My new diet plan has made me feel so much better, but I know my limitations. There is a King Cake destined for my table in the very near future, and a naked little plastic baby will soon join others from years past to decorate my kitchen windowsill.
Marian Carcache welcomes
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