Lara Tupper: Swift Ink Stories

Remembrance of Cakes Past

When I was nine, I had a penchant for Devil Dogs, Ring Dings, and Sno Balls—that hot pink coconut and luscious mallow casing. I liked anything sugary and soft. I preferred to have dessert after every meal.

But I was short for my age. My grandmother decided that my growth was stunted, and that Hostess treats were the culprit. I was to stop eating all desserts.

Heartbroken, I snuck into a low cabinet where the baking supplies were stored. There I ate mouthfuls of chocolate chips at once. Because sweets were forbidden, they became a thrill.

I still feel a jolt when I eat dark chocolate. And I still notice the rack of packaged Hostess treats at the gas station. I know they’ll make me shorter but I find them beautiful just the same. I think of car rides with my parents and scenery spinning by.  

In my writing classes, I find that food-related prompts elicit impassioned responses. Writers not only describe vivid tastes, smells, and textures, but also memories of family …