Jean-David and I were invited over to a friends house to partake in the mid-winter tradition Galette des rois which translates to “Kings Cake”. This year I was prepared to partake in this French holiday tradition, armed with the knowledge of what is expected in such a circumstance.
This tradition, as many French ones are, is based around food. In this case a flaky, buttery cake filled with sweet almond paté and one ceramic toy hidden in the cake. When you buy the cake it comes with two paper crowns….hence it’s name….King’s Cake. When everyone is settled with a glass of hard cider in hand (the beverage served with King’s cake….because let’s be honest, after age 10 this cake tradition is boring without a little bit of booze) then the fun begins! The eldest person is sent to cut the cake while the youngest person gets under the table and dictates who gets which piece. After the mortification of squeezing yourself underneath a small coffee table in a 150square foot space crammed with 8 people you are allowed to eat your cake.
If by chance you are the lucky one that has almost broken your tooth on the ceramic gizmo hidden in the cake you are the King! Or the Queen! So now, your knees are sore, you may have broken a tooth and the game isn’t over yet! You get to choose from the group of people your crush and crown them your king or queen. As a 24 year old the prospect of choosing a king doesn’t scare me, but imagining myself at 6 years old in front of a cafeteria filled with mean children pointing to my crush dredges up old elementary school dramas of hiding in the bathroom because Colin Sternagal was teasing me for having a crush on a certain Luke Hammond.
Thankfully this year I was spared from crouching under a table and sadly once more I didn’t chip a tooth and become Queen for a day…but I guess I can wait another year to try again. OR I can just buy a cake for myself and eat it all…then guess who wins…Hail to the Queen-I-ate-an-entire-cake-to-myself…
No comments:
Post a Comment