Let Me Eat Cake

I had a lot of amazing and cheap food in Taiwan. I also had a great deal of amazing and ridiculously expensive food in Taiwan. My recent culinary experiences are begging me to reflect a bit on the enjoyment of food. As fodder for the following discussion, I'd like to use pineapple cakes, arguably one of the finest Taiwanese snacks ever invented. My earliest memories of consuming pineapple cakes were of the ones packaged in sleeves, like Fig Newtons. I later learned that those were mere pedestrian versions, and that there existed high-class versions that come in decorative boxes, with each pineapple cake exclusively packaged in its own fashionable wrapper. These are arguably more delicious and have a finer texture, but with every bite, I feel like I am consuming guilt-ridden diamond-studded desserts. There is also the added tediousness of opening these packages without smashing the contents therein. It makes me miss the pineapple cakes that came in sleeves, the ones that I could cram in my mouth one after the other without the slightest air of presumptuousness. Sure, the quality might be just a tad lower, but it's not like I'm running a side-by-side taste test. And the cumulative effect of inhaling multiple pineapple cakes in a row more than makes up for any lack in quality. All I want to do is smile with my mouth chocked full of sweet cakey pineapple bits, and the bulk-packaged pineapple cakes allow me to do just that. Don't get me wrong, though. Give me 100 of your most exquisite pineapple cakes, and I'll stuff my face with those, too.