WHAT: Red-fruit Yogurt Mousse Cake
WHY: Since I was a child I noticed that nobody would congratulate or reward you if you are not at least getting married or having a child. I had the confirmation of my suspicions when last year I won an important international writing festival and no friends, nor relativesregarded me at all. No encouragement or support from them. I was almost getting to have a script bought from a movie producer, but it was silent from their side. As soon as I got pregnant they all noticed me. Ok, that’s life. They all sent and brought presents and money for the happy event. I decided to repay their sudden kindness with a big and gourmet Sunday lunch. I won’t talk about the menu because this is not the place, but of course there were a cake as dessert. Here it starts another story. I was in a bar sipping an excellent Belgian beer (half to be sincere, after the pregnancy I lost my endurance), when an old friend of mine came in to say hello accompanied by a guy I’d never seen before. Chit-chatting, it came out he was a confectioner, a pasticcere I’d say. My eyes twinkled: he was charming, kind, a cake-maker and he showed interest on me. Unbelievable! One thing I have to underline – that night my baby was not with me. We had a beautiful time flirting etc. etc. I decided that the cake for the Sunday lunch would be made by him. I actually invited him to the occasion. After many possible choices I opted for this Red-fruit Yogurt Mousse Cake. He made me an appointment on Sunday morning to the bar where he works to pick them up, he and the giant cake. I showed perfectly on time, all dressed up and happy and my baby was with me. Why the hell it didn’t come up earlier that I was a mum? Did I expressly omit that tiny lovely detail? He looked at me with scorn and immediately made up an excuse for not coming to the lunch. Well, I had to go. The lunch was successful and the creamy soft mousse was a Wow. The sweet icing on top perfectly balanced the hint of sour from the yogurt. The sponge inside gave to it the right consistence. The decoration was also unexpected. Everybody was happy and complimented, asking who the author of that pink delicious cake was. I only mentioned the name of the bar and secretly told the whole story to my baby. I used a low voice and was totally sincere; being mindful not to omit any detail this time, not even my frustration. He’s only two month old, but he listened to me carefully, then he smiled and puked on me the milk I’d just given to him.
WHERE: Ragusa
WHO: me
The greediest 