No, I'm just kidding. Well, kind of.
See, we had an appointment to meet the lovely Bernard DeLille, winemaker at the Biltmore Estate, and we'd planned to have lunch there beforehand with someone from their marketing office. But between still being stuffed from our epic meal at Table the night before, and having been completely swept up in the magic of the River Arts District, we showed up 45 minutes late and without much room in our bellies for a sit-down lunch.
So Jean took us over to their cafe, where we enjoyed some tasty sandwiches over a history lesson about the Vanderbilt family, the Estate, the farms and so on.
[Side note: 250 rooms, people. Forty-three bedrooms. For three full-time residents and around 15 full-time staff. An indoor swimming pool, a regulation bowling alley, a massive oak dining table seating 64. And don't get me started on the work rooms on the lower level: two canning pantries, servants' dining and sitting rooms -- both nicer than mine at home -- and... wait for it... a DYEING ROOM. Yes, that's right. They had a whole laundry room dedicated to dyeing fabrics that had begun to fade. Or whatever.]
Anyway. We're lingering over our now-empty plates, and Colin decides he needs a little sweet treat. And dontcha know he saw some cookies in the cafe that looked rather tasty, so he hopped in there to pick one up. And in the process, he spies something of a celebration going on behind the counter.
Miraculously, the syrupy drawl comes back, and he's winkin' and flirtin' with these ladies who are just instantly smitten with him.
"Aw, it's a birthday, darlin'. We're havin' us some Fruity Pebble cake - Doreen baked it."
"You mean you ain't never tried Fruity Pebble cake? Well, child, come on over here and get a slice. It's a proper Southern tradition!"
And I must say, the thing sure as hell tasted like a bowl of sweet, tart Fruity Pebbles. The problem now, of course, is that someone keeps dropping hints about how much they loved that cake. My BFF (Google, duh) and I have worn ourselves out trying to find the origins or a recipe, to no avail.
So, good people of the interwebs, tell me: have YOU ever had or heard of Fruity Pebble(s) Cake? Did your great aunt, grandma or gay manny hand you down a well-worn recipe card? If so, would you like to share? Post a comment, or send me an email... we'll tell you how it turns out in the hands of a pair of West Coast heathens.