The Fruits (or Cake) of our Labour

A few days after that fateful Saturday, we went to dinner with some cousins. After a great meal of seafood, we had dessert. And what was on the menu but a cake made out of alfarrobas.


My mom ordered it because she'd never tried it. The rest of us were eager to try something from the tree we'd suffered and maimed ourselves for.


It didn't taste like chocolate, but it wasn't bad either. The same can't be said for Steve's cheesecake. Not so much cheese as gelatin.