To Heaven and Back

Teachers, perhaps more than any other professionals I know, are always eager to partake of free food with little to no regard for calories or fat intake. When given the opportunity, we will down pizzas, seven-layer dips, sugary punches, cookies, cupcakes -- and any other food preceded by the word “free” --like nobody’s business.

I was a teacher at a school in Winter Garden, Florida the first time I ever described consuming food as “taking a bite out of heaven.” One day after school, faculty leaders invited all school employees to a party in the media center in honor of several teachers who were expecting babies.

When the final bell rang, hundreds of loud, boisterous students flooded the hallway of the main building, finally headed back home for the day. Just a few minutes later, the rider’s circle in front of the main building was empty and all the buses were gone. In the main building, the halls were quiet and clear. Ms. Grace, the school secretary, announced over the intercom that there was food in the media center. Then, the second exodus began. Teachers came out of classrooms, the break room, portables, everywhere – all migrating toward the free food.

The baby shower took place in the study area of the media center, central to the nonfiction and poetry stacks. Atop a group of tables lined up in front of the biography section sat several bowls filled with chocolate candies and mints, punch, two bowls of spiced pecans and a large cake with white frosting. As usual, the line leading to the dessert tables was long, and the food, as always, was always plentiful.

As I went through the receiving line, I tried to get a sampling of everything. When my plate was as full as I could handle, I joined a table of early arrivals who had managed to get to the media center ahead of the masses and were already chomping down.

The spiced pecans were delicious. I attempted to identify each spice, but they all blended together so seamlessly into one sweet, hot, succulent salt that I was unable to determine what was what. Completely satisfied with the pecans, I traced their origins to sweet Ms. Grace, who promised to give me the recipe.

Then, I moved on to the cake – half vanilla, half chocolate with a crisp white frosting. My only hope was that the frosting was butter cream, my favorite. I took a bite, and to my delight, it was definitely butter cream. As the fluffy mixture of cream, sugar, and cake danced around my mouth, my taste buds were awakened in a way they had never been before. I always say that the frosting makes the cake, just like the gravy makes the mashed potatoes and the marinade makes the meat. And this frosting definitely made the cake one of the best – no, the best cake I have ever had the pleasure of devouring.

The cake itself was soft and moist, like a sponge dipped in honey. But I remember the frosting much more vividly. It was otherworldly. As my teeth cut through the crispy surface, they sunk into a light, creamy filling that had the fluffy texture of whipped cream, but the buttery-almond flavor of buttercream. And the frosting, though sweet, was not even the slightest bit too sweet. Each bite seemed to melt in my mouth.

“Who made the cake,” I asked the teachers at my table between bites. No one knew, but they agreed that it was, at least, delicious. I went back to the desert tables for another slice, and to my surprise, there was still some cake left. I inquired about who made the cake and was told that Sue, the curriculum coordinator brought it. Oh. Where’s Sue? Wait, she’s over by the butter mints. Of course.

When probed, Sue told me, “Oh it’s just a cake I picked up from Publix.”

Who knew my first taste of firmament would come courtesy of the local grocery store chain! I was definitely astounded. On many occasions after those first crispy, light, and buttery-sweet bites of Publix cake at the faculty party, I sought to replicate the experience. Some days after school, I stopped by Publix on my way home. I even wrote a blog once about an epiphany I received while on one such excursion, and every once in a while declared on my social networking site how much I missed the taste of Publix cake after moving to Virginia.

Every so often, I would scour the internet in hopes of finding a recipe for Publix frosting so I could whip up a batch at home. But, what I discovered, instead, was that the celestial cream is probably/maybe/actually made in bulk at headquarters and shipped out to each grocery store, so very few people really know how to make it.

When I finally returned to the Orlando area for a visit nearly two years ago, I came with a “must do” list that included visiting Disney world, grabbing at least one meal from a popular local chicken shack, getting another taste of Publix cake, and perhaps smuggling a few slices back to Virginia. But I only scratched two items off that list. Somewhere between the laughs, Mickey mouse-shaped ice cream bars, rides, and agonizing nightly conversations with one of my good friends who was going through a heart-wrenching divorce, I managed to let five days slip by without ever getting another taste of that coveted Publix cake.