Guilty Pleasures

Today I was in Market Basket with my baby girl.  Going to that place is like playing a contact sport.  Maybe it's because it's right off the highway, but no matter when I go, it's always near-pandemonium.  (Hey, good for them, right?)

I am totally part of the traffic flow problem in that place, because I'm not familiar with the layout yet, and I'm constantly having to retrace my steps to find something I missed.  Today, this meant that I walked by the end-cap with all the Little Debbie cakes on it multiple times.

Now, what I'm about to say next is something I should probably not admit publicly.  Especially considering my position as a home baker who believes in making things from scratch, from ingredients you can recognize and pronounce.

But... I cannot turn down those Little Debbie's Christmas Tree Cakes.

As a kid I was a big fan of Little Debbie's.  I loved pretty much everything they made.  Oatmeal Cream Pies, Nutty Bars, Swiss Cake Rolls, the whole line - except Devil Dogs.  Those things are vile.  Anyway, I've outgrown my affection for pretty much all of those (besides, I can make a WAY better version of Oatmeal Cream Pies myself... hey, maybe I should offer those at some point!), but Christmas Tree Cakes are different.  They still have a place of honor in my heart.

I'm sure part of it is the link with my childhood.  My mom never bought them, but my friends' moms - well, they were another story.  So I associate them with the excitement of hanging out at friends' houses, eating something forbidden - because, of course we were eating them as snacks in the middle of the afternoon, which my mother never would have stood for.  They were special.

At this point in my life, I should know better.  They are essentially sugar, vegetable shortening and a bunch of nasty chemicals.  Gross, right?  And yet... and yet...

That weird, slightly hardened coating, halfway between a glaze and a shell.  The intense fake vanilla flavor of the airy cake and whipped frosting inside.  The crunch of the colored sugar on top.

It's so wrong, and yet SO RIGHT.

So I bought them.  And I totally opened the box in the car and ate a package of them right there in the driver's seat.  My daughter is fortunately still in a rear-facing car seat, so she couldn't see me as I stuffed my face with my own hypocrisy.  Oh, the shame!

Do you have a guilty pleasure food?  Something you know is wrong on so many levels, but you just can't resist it?

Leave a comment and tell me about it!  Come on, you know you want to.  No judging.  We're all friends here.