Think of it as a salad made of fat

My mom, bless her, was more at home at work than in the kitchen. She’s not a bad cook, she’s just uninterested in spending the time preparing everything when and if she has something more stimulating to do. She likes eating well, so if the choice is between slapping something together in the microwave or eating out, eating out always wins. Growing up, she taught me that if you’re going to bake something, do it from scratch, and use real ingredients. She didn’t go as far as buy Madagascar vanilla and fancy springform pans like I did, but cake mixes, frozen prepared foods, and anything labeled “low-fat” was verboten in the house.

Just because I did vegan March and am now almost done with no-pasta, no-ramen April, people keep assuming that I’m some kind of heath health (damn typos!) nut. Yesterday, when I brought in a cake for a co-worker’s birthday, everyone kept asking me “is it made from soy?” believing that someone who eats salad for lunch is going to attempt to make a dessert out of tofu.

As those of you who follow me on Twitter know, I made a Thin Mint cheesecake, following this recipe. And yeah, I used full-fat cream cheese, sour cream and chocolate. For the topping, I made real whipped cream by using a hand mixer. I even wrote the happy birthday message on the top with green gel to keep the thing mint color coordinated.

We put candles in it, everybody sang, ate, and enjoyed it. But afterwards, they kept asking me, “is this some kind of vegan thing?” As if I would spend 200% more money and time on making a cake dairy free, just to mess with them and their carnivorous sensibilities.

I kept trying to explain to everyone that I was raised in a make-it-real-or-don’t-make-it-at-all family, and that when I want to eat healthy, I eat salad, and when I want to eat unhealthy, I go all the way. But that explanation made everyone unhappy because even though the cake was delicious, nobody wanted to be reminded of exactly how unhealthy it was. That’s when I told a co-worker to think of it as a salad. A salad made of fat. And when my boss asked me if he was going to be alright if he partook, I told him yes. As long as it was the last thing he ate until Wednesday.