Mardis Gras has big sentimental value in our family. Jack was born on the Monday before Mardis Gras, and as we were waiting to hear news of him coming into the world, we were invited to our good friend's for a Mardis Gras FHE. And before that, we'd lucked into Mardis Gras on Galveston Island when we celebrated our fifth anniversary. So now, to recognize our Southern roots and Jack's status as a gen-you-ine Texan, we make King Cakes every year.
King Cakes are ridiculous looking....
but very very yummy. They are essentially great big cinnamon rolls in a circle. With lots of frosting. And necklaces!! What more could you ask for??
And better yet...there's a little surprise waiting inside:
Why, oh why, you may ask, is there a plastic baby lurking in the cake? Because it's epiphany, baby, and that is the baby Jesus. Ok, set aside for a minute the fact that I've just wrapped baby Jesus up in dough (can he breathe in there, even??) and shoved him in an oven for 20 minutes or so.....and then will attack his little hiding place with a knife and potentially EAT him -- we are totally honoring him here. Really. (And besides, with as many Catholics as there are in the world, he must be used to getting eaten by now.) Here's the deal -- if you get the baby in your slice of cake, you have good luck this year AND you have to make the King Cake the next year. We must not have stressed that last bit enough in years past, because we have yet to EVER get a King Cake made for us. But hey, maybe next year!!
Lassez Les Bon Temps Roulez.....or whatever! Happy Fat Tuesday!! And to help with the giggles and the fatness, here's one last photo, one of a series taken amidst massive giggles by my darling son. Should I be offended...or worried?
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