Cupid's Arrow: A Cake by any Other Name...

What's up, peeps? Paula here to profess her undying lurve, Arrow-style. Like someone else a few weeks back, I went rogue and picked one (okay two, really) of my own favorite things to pay tribute to. Why? Because I can >:)

Without further rambling on my part, I am professing my love to:

Yes, zebra cakes. Revision food of the gods. No time to cook, or even get up from your desk? No worries. One package of Z-cakes has enough fat and unrefined sugar to keep you cranking out words for several hours. And just look at that mascot. Is he not having fun? Imagine a party with him and Chester Cheetah. Only the cool kids would get invited to that soiree. You know you wanna go.

I was kind of traumatized to find out not everyone knew about zebra cakes when I was blathering on about them on twitter. It seems most of the non-initiated tweeps were either uber-classy or foreign. Classy people--what did your mom put in your grade school brown bag lunches? Creme brulee? Foreign people--I pity you and your non-artery-clogging healthy snack foods. Clearly, Z-cakes are the shizz. Why else would they have their own fan webpage and their own facebook page, neither of which are run by me. No, really.

I decided to pay tribute to the Z-cakes by classing them up, Masterchef style, because if you know me at all you know I also love me some Masterchef. [Side note: Is it me or did James totally get robbed this week? Hey James you're in the final four. PSYCH. No you're not. Wrong, just wrong. Come on, Luca or Jessie. I don't want either of the mean girls to win.]

So while classing up the cakes, like with any art, there were a couple major fails, including one called Boat and one called Torte. What this means is that I have consumed more than the manufacturer's recommended daily allowance of zebra cakes. Please send insulin.

Okay, here's what they look like out of the box:

Not bad, not bad. They have enough hexagonal charm to make you the envy of the fifth grade when you dump them out of your lunch bag, even if they're a little smashed because your mom packed them at the bottom under that apple you always throw away.

My goal was to plate them up so that even the classiest of the classy people above might be tempted to indulge in their sugary and saturated goodness. Let's see how I did:

I call this first one, Classic:

Here we have zebra cake served over a mixed-berry syrup, alongside whipped cream and fresh fruit. If you ever worked in a fancy-but-not-too-fancy restaurant, like I did, then you have probably plated up some desserts in the classic style.

I call this one Fan. Check out my knife-skills, yo. Here we have sliced zebra cake served over a mixed-berry compote, garnished with whipped cream and a raspberry. Okay, whatever, it's really grape jelly but that doesn't sound nearly as fancy, and sometimes it's all about the wording, am I right?

And finally, I call this one Here Comes the Cake. Because yes, with a little finesse, zebra cakes can put a dazzling finish on even the most glamorous of occasions. Okay, probably not really. But maybe, if you got mad style :)

So how'd I do? Are you convinced? Are you hungry? Are you ready to trade in your frou-frou desserts for some real American deliciousness? What's your go-to reading or revision snack?