Whenever I realized that the monks were right
about life's inherent suffering, I indulge myself through recreating my grandma's famous chocolate mayonnaise cake.
It isn't much, just three spoonfuls of sludge and your typical cake recipe.
But, despite my stomach twisting seeing the swirling creamy globs congealed together,
the final taste is sublime—And moist,
very moist.
I imagine my grandmother learning how to make this cake on her own. Thinking,
It too served as a kind of comfort for her
during those times in her childhood
Where scarcity and depressive desperation were all too common. I imagine her being shipped off to Canada to live with a family who did not want her. Because her father wanted to grieve the death of his wife in England without the burden of fatherhood.
I imagine her after a long day on the farm (She was not allowed to study after grade 6), ingredients in hand – bought with meagre earnings, coming home to bake herself some moist Chocolatey mayonnaise cake.
So that she too could indulge herself and forget about life's suffering for a while.