I must sadly report to you, my faithful readers, that the Picaken was not met with the inspirational, passionate reception I envisioned.
My children – all five of them – turned up their noses at the Picaken, regardless of its intricate, beautiful structural complexity.
My husband, although he ate two fairly sizable pieces, neither cheered nor smothered me with kisses of gratitude. Instead, his reaction was more along the lines of (and I quote):
“I think maybe I prefer my pie and cake to stay separated.”
Lord, have mercy. A huge mess of homemade buttercream icing, along with a homemade cherry pie and that delicious devil’s food cake….and the Picaken sits, lonely and abandoned, with a scant four pieces removed.
(He had two. I had one last night and one today.)
And then, when my husband awoke today, he said, “No more carbs or sugars for me. New diet.”
I’m not sure I’m up to interpreting what all of this means, but I guess that was my first – and last – Picaken.
Anybody wanna come over and help me finish it?