Preview: “The Sweetest Thing”

I try my best. I really do. But sometimes, in my excitement, I focus on the end result and skip all the necessary steps to get there, bewildering myself with a final product that doesn’t match my vision. This has happened in every avenue of my life, but none has yielded such catastrophic results as my early attempts at baking. 


A few weeks before my 20th birthday, I announced to my family I intended to bake my own cake.


“It’s going to be vegan.”


“Katie,” my dad said, his voice cautious. “We can get you a cake.”


“You don’t have to, you’re gonna love this!” 


The inspiration came from the dining hall at my college—ranked among the liberalist of liberal arts schools, a place I chose in part because it resembled a hippie commune with dreadlocked students roaming barefoot around the quirky, retro campus nestled among untamed woods and an organic farm. The dining hall had two food lines—one for vegetarians that included a vegan option, and a line for meat eaters, who were a vocal minority on campus. 


They strut through the dining hall, plates of ribs or wings stacked high on their trays, passing classmates enjoying vegan casseroles and bountiful salads and bagels spread with hummus or Tofutti. 


Still, the meat eaters would opt for the vegan desserts—fluffy yellow cakes with a perfect sweetness, frosted with rich dark chocolate. The vegans would be upset by the encroachment on their territory (“That cake is OURS!” “You can eat ANYTHING ELSE!”). But their pleas were ignored. 


The cake was that good. 


This was in the early aughts, before veganism, gluten-free, and other dietary restrictions were so ubiquitous dairy companies started broadcasting commercials reminding people that “real” is better (Have you ever had an oat milk latte? It’s not).


I wanted to share my experiences with my family who, despite our kitchen with cuisine from around the globe, had yet to experience the joy of alternative baking.


“You’ll see,” I told them.



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