CAKE!

70-75% of what we perceive as taste is actually smell.  While we can only distinguish sweet, salty, sour, bitter and umami with our tongue, our nose can distinguish 4000-10,000 distinct smells.  Umami is the fifth taste and is described as the “taste of deliciousness”.  It is what makes us want to eat things with MSG.  Just a thought before we begin.

                                                 Cake

         After the first taste I knew I was in heaven.  I sucked it in, drawing the liquid across my tongue and the vapors into my sinuses.  It was rich, the strong bitterness balanced by just the right amount of cream and sugar.  There wasn't the hint of acidity that marked lower grade, or ill prepared coffee, just the complex and charming play of flavors complimented by the warmth of cardamom.   
         Coffee was the closest thing to a religion that could be found in my mother's house.  I remember dinner parties, the house filled with my parents' colorful and energetic friends.  You could always tell when the wine ran out and when the coffee began.  The whole room grew reverent when my mother brought out the fine bone china.  Everyone sat down at the table as the coffee was prepared.  She brewed it strong, almost as thick as espresso, with a little bit of cardamom ground in with the beans.  She poured each cup and added a scant teaspoon of sugar, just enough to take the harsh edge off the bitterness.  It was like the splash of water added to fine scotch to pull back the veil of alcohol and open up the complexity hidden beneath.  Lastly she added a drizzle of whipping cream.  Then you drank it, taking every sip in with complete attention.  You never stirred my mother's coffee, but instead allowed the natural chaos of fluid dynamics to bring to you the flavors the coffee gods wished.
         My first sip brought no distinction, just that mysterious essence of coffee.  The complex flavors of a good cup of coffee are like a movie, you can't usually sense each individual frame or flavor, only the whole.  I closed my eyes and took another long sip.  I caught a hint of roasted nuts and the earthiness of autumn.  I let the taste sit on  the inside of my mouth for a moment before I continued.  As I drank it, the fickle combinations of sugar, cream and coffee evened out.  I only caught a stray wisp of dramatic notes here and there.  I came to the end and savored the new balance of flavors that reminded me of fine tobacco.  As the coffee dwindled I reached the dregs, here the finely ground cardamom and undissolved sugar took over from the coffee, an exotic middle eastern balance that made me smile.  I put down my cup as my mother returned from the kitchen.  I knew in that moment I am in trouble. 
         My fork entered the cake with trepidation, and I prepared myself to lie.  I took the first bite.  Whatever genius my mother had when preparing coffee does not extend to baking.  I could taste baking soda.  If I had swigged vinegar at that moment, my mouth would have become the first living volcano experiment.  The sugar hit me next.  I'm not diabetic, but I felt like I needed to check, just to make sure.  The rough starchiness of uncooked flour added a nicely disgusting undertone, paired with vanilla that I could tell was well past date.  I took another bite.  The serenity and ecstasy of the coffee was completely expelled then.  I noticed that the cake was actually coffee flavored,  or possibly I should say, the cake was bad instant coffee crystal flavored.  This was possibly my mother's attempt to trick the kitchen into obeying her.  It didn't work.  Not all of the crystals had dissolved and they accosted my mouth in terrifying sour bursts.  I took another bite and glanced longingly at my empty cup. 
         I finally finished the cake, put down my fork and faced my mother.  With complete honesty I said,
         “That was your best cake ever.”

WC: 683