Wednesday, April 6, 2011
O to be a strudel. To be born in the crepuscular shadow of dawn. Bakers marching in their baker hats, without care, unfettered by the 9-5 bureaucratic doldrums of our routinized society. Awake with mother birds and father rooster, awake with the constellations. O to make Entenmann's in a hidden corner of the Bavarian woods! Knowing that your decadent yet reasonably-priced pastries makes even the most staid and snobby of women release zephyrs of love pheromones, that it makes them moist with the soft glow of having tasted this rich batter. Marching to and fro oven, displaying lines of goodies in the luxurious arithmetic of "the baker's dozen." The true literati invents their words just as the true chef invents their numbers. Everyone else is mere dilletentes. Here you stand, with your 13 strudels, 13 strudels on the edge of society's precipice, overlooking your hungry flock with the transcendental stillness of a visionary.
Treats are what make life grand. And yes Toaster Strudel has captured this taste of Bavaria and transported it to your local toaster oven. But is it too decadent? Is it simply too much to allow an 8th grade smart-aleck sk8er to make a strudel his personal canvas? To give him a pack of icing to unfurl on this luscious, flaky bread? To allow him the experience of the pastry chef, the paradigm of "food presenter," at this very inexperienced age? No it is not too decadent but merely fop! We applaud you Toaster Strudel for bringing the mythical, hi-ho hi-ho rhythm of the German strudelmaster to American homes!! You are a meal fine enough for Tom Wolfe.