JB and I met up with my mom, dad, sister and brother-in-law in New Orleans for a long weekend. It was my first time in the Big Easy, and I was excited to eat my way through the city. I’m still daydreaming about the beignets and hot chocolate from Cafe du Monde…
While we were there, we visited with family who live about an hour out of the city. After dinner, they served a traditional king cake for dessert. A king cake looks kind of like a bundt cake with purple, yellow and green icing, but inside there is a tiny, plastic baby waiting to be found. Whoever finds the baby has the privilege of hosting the next king cake party.
There were 10 of us at the table, and as we all got closer to finishing our slices, we began wondering where that dang baby was hiding. We laughed because we assumed it was in the sole piece that didn’t get served – what were the odds! – and then I took my next bite.
Yes, the only pregnant person at the table found the plastic baby in her piece of king cake.
We were hysterical. Literally, we had tears streaming down our cheeks from laughing so hard. It was a moment I think I’ll remember for a long, long time.
My favorite king cake story: Mardi Gras party, college, sitting at a table with random other undergrads. Girl I don’t know makes a terrible face and pulls a little plastic baby out of her mouth. “What the hell is this?” she says to us. “Umm, I guess you ‘win’!” I say, explaining the king cake tradition. She looks at me in horror. “But I’m Jewish!” she replies.
Haha! Love it 🙂