whipped cream and other delights

image from Childhood Flames
 I've had a lot of jobs. I was reminded of one of my first last night while eating a fancy dinner at SPQR with my bff. We had a meringue dessert with whipped cream, fresh figs, and strawberries. It was simple and delicious, and made me think of the boccone dolce at Papa Haydn in Portland, where I spent six months as a cake cutter. That's right, my official title was "cake cutter;" basically, I cut cake and squirted sauces onto plates. Sometimes I would do hostess stuff, but mostly, there was a lot of cake to be cut.

 The cakes were treated like precious jewels and we were only allowed to take one kind home for free as it spoiled overnight, the boccone dolce. I took home a container jam-packed with this cake constantly. I cannot tell you how much whipped cream I consumed during those strange months. Yes, I can. SO MUCH WHIPPED CREAM. I also had the special task of carrying a bucket of freshly whipped cream from the bakery down to the restaurant in the morning, where a huge glob went directly into my coffee. It was an easy and pleasant job, but I can create stress anywhere. The most anxiety-producing activity was carrying the cakes up and down the rickety bakery stairs to the restaurant. I only dropped one. It was a boccone dolce.  

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