I really try not to say “Let them eat cake!”, even though I know better. I still say it anyway–it’s a sad, sad, thing…
When it was reported that one of the last great princesses uttered “Let them eat cake!” Marie Antoinette was tagged as that princess :
There is no evidence that Marie Antoinette ever said that starving peasants should “eat cake” if they had no bread. In fact, the story of a fatuous noblewoman who said “Let them eat cake!” appears in the philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Confessions, which was written around 1766 (when Marie Antoinette was just 11 years old).
And the phrase uttered was not even“Let them eat cake!” it was “Let them eat brioche!” a richer, more expensive kin to bread.
If the starving pheasants do not have bread—let them eat the more expensive bread—makes little sense except to disrespect the helpless.
“Let Them Eat Cake” associated with confectionary delights, reminds me of how much Marie Antoinette was hated by the starving, sad subjects of the French Revolution.
But stop, this is cake we are talking about here–delicious, make you feel good cake, and “Let them eat cake!” is not a happy, feel good phrase.
Even though L.T.E.C. is fun to utter and rolls off the tongue, let’s separate the good from the bad: adorable cake on one side–the storming of the Bastille and beheading of Marie and Louie–on the other.
Let’s start our own revolution to never say the phrase “Let them eat cake!” and yet I managed to say it once again because it is ridiculously addictive. I simply need to disassociate it from the Guillotine crowd.
Not to get all historical but, this Novel Baker thing is like moving back in time—sort of.
Caught on the bridge between then and now, I think I might be setting back the human race, at least one generation if not two, because I’m customizing and focusing on only one cake.
I feel like a traitor to American ingenuity. Shouldn’t I be on a product line somewhere like Lucy in the Candy Factory making multiples of something…anything and applying stickers that say “handmade by artisans”?
On the contrary, to customize one-on-one is so personal that you become someone’s own private baker, if only for a week, which is pretty cool and in general, anti-industrial revolution, yet a revolutionary idea—at least amongst the proletariat because the bourgeois always had a staff of culinary geniuses.
I can’t help thinking that each of these cakes is setting the human race into a backward tailspin and exploiting a class or two. I should probably shift away from this strange, un-sugarcoated logic and focus instead on important stuff like sugar flowers, fondant, and living up to the code of handmade by an artisan, just like Lucy or not.