Spotted Dick, Open Only in Case of Emergency

I don’t know what it is about the British Isles and their unfortunate names for certain things.  Spotted Dick is by far one of the more unfortunate.  Not only are they known for silly names, but also for their dearth of tasty local food.  If ever there was a time to be proved wrong, it was during the week-long power outage we had about a month ago.

Noting our dampened spirits (pun intended), we picked up the running joke for the evening and then decided to actually eat it.  A quick note about that week: we were running our refrigerator off of our car engines through an 800 watt inverter originally purchased for camping.  While it rained, car running, dealing with the loss of the Internet, we read the instructions on the can of Dick by candlelight.  All the while, we cracked terrible jokes, just the most awful lame jokes that you usually only laugh at when you’ve been enjoying some libations, but our lack of professionals like Jon Stewart to do it for us, we went on our merry way (at least two of us thought it was funny).

Beyond the dick jokes, we actually ate the stuff (the sponge cake, that is).  The taste is if you were to take a sponge cake, bathe it further in trans-fats (don’t read the ingredients), soak it in a liquid form of molasses with raisins, force the raisins into the cake, and then add lead weights just to give it some more heft.  I actually enjoyed it, though after reading about the amount of hydrogenation needed to create this product, I probably won’t have it again.

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