"Bubblegum?" we asked the counterperson. "What makes it bubblegum?"
"Bubblegum flavor," she answered. Of course.
No gain without risk, right? We purchased a bubblegum cupcake, went
outside to sit with our friends, and took an exploratory bite. Just
then, two rubes from Crackertown passed by the table and snorted, "Dude,
that's so GAY." It was unclear whether they were referring to the
multicolored disco lights in the cupcake shop, the gay guy with a
mouthful of pink frosting, the French bulldog at the
table next to him, or the entire scene. (We glared anyway.)
Indeed, the pink frosting was heavily dosed with artificial bubblegum flavor, leading to one of the oddest dissociative states we've encountered since our 20s. The nose said gum, the mouth cake, and we kept trying to chew the cupcake as if we could blow bubbles with it. After the first mouthful, we shaved off two-thirds of the frosting, thinking if the flavor wasn't so strong the cognitive dissonance would fade. After another bite, we wrapped the remaining half of the cupcake in our paper napkin and threw it away, along with the gum-ball garnish.
American Cupcake 1919 Union (at Laguna), 896-4217.
