It was warm and wanton in my hand. I was busying myself with the transferring of cakes from tin to cooling rack and this one just seemed reluctant to proceed. I did have the cream cheese frosting cooling in the fridge so could well imagine how the warmth of the fresh, dark cake would work with it in all the right ways.
A knife plunged in to the frosting and slathered on top of the newly liberated cupcake was all it took. There it wobbled for a moment, getting used to its new surroundings, before spreading languidly over the cake’s welcoming curves.
I captured the moment for posterity and then dived in for a piece of the action. Soft and dark. Creamy and cool. I actually had to sit down to get the most out of it. At one point it became too much and I cut the cake in half with a spoon, just to watch the one side tumble, softly, like a cushion.
I’m mad about moments like these…