Blog, chocolate cheesecake I've been waiting for five+ weeks for. Chocolate cheesecake I've been waiting for five+ weeks for, blog.
The cheesecake I have in front of me is one the richest, sweetest, sickliest and delicious chocolate cheesecake I have ever had the pleasure to eat. I first found this cheesecake two christmases ago when at the local supermarket on a cold a chilling Christmas Eve night. The queue for the checkout had so many people in with trolleys filled to the brim (mainly with alcohol) that the line had extended up the frozen ailse. I stood there with my mum, bored to tears counting the ceiling tiles for god only knows how many times when, for some reason I forget now, I looked down into the freezer compartment and there it was: a picture of a slice of the divine pudding on the front of a purple box haloed with the flourecent glow of the freezer lighting. Immediatly I knew I had to have it, when my mum wasn't looking I slipped one of the boxes under the twenty-seventh bottle of Martini and when we finally got to the checkout some time on Christmas morning I distracted her as the till read out said 'Chocolate Cheesecake.....£Too Much'. There, I had it.
Later on that day, when all the crackers were pulled, a fifth of the turkey eaten and all the washing up ignored, came the moment when I got to eat the divine pudding. At that first bite all the cells in my body shriveled with osmotic pleasure. I was thirsty until march.
Since then I have only indulged on two more of these cheesecakes, sometimes because I wanted to put up the charade of trying to be healthy, but mainly because there hasn't always been enough Martini bottles. But in the gaps inbetween cheesecake I could remember the taste of that first bite.
And then, lent.
It was no secret that I had done that no atheist should do, especially to my family who had to deal with the screams of lust for chocolate and chips in the night, over the past five+ weeks I've had enough tranquilizers forced upon me to kill a rhino and everything else in that food chain. However much pain it had been to live without my beloved KitKats and chips, and the offering of such subsistence from my associates who 'had forgotten' my pledge, I managed to get through the forty days. And to celebrate I planned to have a very chocolatey easter, the crowning glory of the event being The Chocolate Cheesecake.
I walk to the fridge in apparent slow motion and open it, ignoring the smell of what seems to be a rotting carcass. I pull out that purple box I remember so well from so many years ago and begin to tear into it. As a piece of the box floats to the floor it catches the light and I see it out of the corner of my eye. It has words on it. I read it. It says 'Could you save a piece for Dad?
Mum,' I let out a howl as the realisation that the whole is not to be mine. That I have to share it with a third of the three who did not save me any pizza from a few short nights ago.
My heart swells and a tear buds in my eye. I fall to my knees on the kitchen tiles and stare at the incomplete cheesecake in my right hand.
