Even if no one in the office will understand my random shoutings of "Throw me somethin', Mister!" and "Mardi Gras Mambo!" I can at least bring them cake to fake a celebration. Perhaps I can educate the masses on one of the traditions of Mardi Gras. Hmm, let's see. . in pre-Christian Western Europe, tribes would bake a "King's Cake," hide a trinket in it, and whoever got the piece of cake with the object, would be King for a year. Now, I suppose it's nice and all to be King for a year and have people bow at your feet, but when your time's up, you get killed. Yep, you're the chosen one that gets to fertilize the soil at the end of the year in promise of a good harvest. I don't know about you guys, but I could go without winning the King Cake Lottery.
Christianity comes along and this tradition is picked up and eventually morphed into what the King Cake is known for today: a delicious obligation. Sure it has religious undertones, but most people just know it as that oval-shaped sugary treat that is indulged in right before Lent. Oh, and the plastic Jesus baby. Can't forget him. Instead of being sacrificed when you get the "trinket" in the cake, you now have to bring in the next cake. That's a lot more tolerable than being a human sacrifice.
Now onto my purposes for bringing King Cakes to the west. Well, they're just tasty. And I miss the fun of sharing a strange looking cake with a bunch of semi-acquaintances. And, perhaps, if this catches on, Mardi Gras will become a National Holiday and I don't have to go to work on Fat Tuesday. Instead, I can spend the entire day trying to burn off all the calories I've consumed by learning to make my own King Cake.
