One of my favorite desserts growing up was "Tetes des negres," my mom got imported from France or Switzerland. It means what it sounds like. They were slightly smaller than fist-sized chocolate domes covering an airy marshmallow filling and wafer base. When the desire strikes, I can now get the "whitewashed" Topkuss Chocos at Taste of Europe in Winooski.
With such a thoroughly continental upbringing, I also grew up in fear of Black Peter. When I was bad, my mom would threaten that Black Peter was going to take me to Spain in his sack. Gaudi architecture still makes me tremble.
Imagine my Proustian smile when I came across
this entry on one of my favorite blogs,
Cake Wrecks. I find the Africancitos especially tantalizing. I don't mind a treat's unflattering political implications as long as it's delicious.
