Then, a couple of weeks back, I was out to lunch, running errands and I got a hankerin for a cup of coffee. I stopped in to a Starbucks near my office and while waiting on line, had a crazy yen for something sweet. I peered into the display case and in the bottom righthand corner, I spotted a white cakepop with yellow stripes. The color alone was springy and eyecatching and when I read the label, I knew I had to have it. It was a Lemon Cake Pop. I felt like this might be a little better than your average cake pop and might taste less like a crayon than other cake pops that I had tried in the past.
After waiting an inordinate amount of time for the shit-show trio of baristas behind the counter to take care of the one person in front of me, I stepped up and ordered an iced latte and a lemon cake pop. Filled with anticipation for my treat, I waited patiently while the twelve year old serving me searched for the cake pop intermittently between gossiping with his co-worker. Really Sparky, if you can't wait until break time to shit-talk your coworker, then perhaps you should start a YouTube drama channel and leave the service industry in your barely post-pubescent wake. Finally, after fiddling, futzing and spilling the tea to his friend, he emerged to tell me that they didn't have anymore lemon cake pops. Damn it! Here I was, ready to open my heart to a cake pop and there were none left. My youthful server tilted his head and a lock of pomaded hair fell in front of his eye. He flipped it back with a toss, looked toward the ceiling and with an empty, Bieber-esque gaze said, "we only have the birthday cake pop".
At this point, I was on the verge of returning back to work late, so I hastily agreed to the birthday cake pop, knowing full well that I was going to hate it more than I hate brussel sprouts. I grabbed my coffee and pop and sprinted out the door to my car. I pulled the pink coated pop from the bag that the Beibs dropped it into and I examined it closely before taking a bite. It was a pretty, soft pink hue and sprayed with a light smattering of white non-pariells and though not as Spring-like as the lemon cake pop, it did give me some seasonal feels.
I hastily snuck a bite of the pop and I swear my eyes pinballed around in my head. It was delicious. The coating did not taste like it was straight out of the Crayola 64 box and the center, while sweet, was not unbearably so. I held up from pulling out of the parking spot to allow myself the additional two bites that it took to finish the cake pop. If not for the confines of my dreaded nine to five, I would have run back in and purchased two more, but I was late and needed to get on the move.
Today is April 19th (actually the 20th since it's 2 AM EST) and I am typing this with splotches of hot pink dyed white chocolate spread across my face like some kind of twisted, Willy Wonka acne and a completed display of cake pops, poised and ready for Easter lunch. Ok, so I made the pops in a state of inebriation brought on by Sangria, Rioja and Brunello (don't judge. Like you've never drunk baked). And, they are not the most symetrical of pops, but damn if they aren't tasty and double damn if they aren't hella cute. See for yourself:
Best wishes for a festive holiday weekend!
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