The road to ecstasy is a rocky one

You probably already know about the potency of small surprise moments of extreme happiness ­– the ones where the level of pure joy and, well, unadulterated thrill are quite out of proportion to the thing itself. Yep. Just had one of those.

After weeks of sampling new flavours, de-mystifying how to cook unfamiliar produce, and generally being good sports about perpetually explaining and defending why, oh why, one would want to be a vegetarian, ladies and gentlemen, I give you – vigorous drumroll, please - the refined carbohydrate!!!!

Behold: The Catalyst

In Ghana, a donut is called a donut but a muffin is called a rocky. That’s because the surface of its crusty top is uneven, just like a pebbled surface.

The donut is lightly browned and heavily sprinkled with sugar. I’ve eaten both cake donuts and crispy, lovely, greasy deep fried donuts like grandma used to make (can you tell which one I like more?) and this one is nothing like either of those: it’s a bit rubbery, lacking oils in a way that causes me to wonder if it wasn’t actually baked, and not especially endowed with flavour. I wouldn’t say no to it again, but it’s definitely the pastry equivalent of the B-movie.

But, oh my, the rocky is my new best friend. At first I thought it was a cornmeal muffin because of its creamy yellow colour. Its interior is dense and moist, it’s not particularly sweet, and someone knew just how much vanilla is the right amount of vanilla. It has a properly crusty top. Indeed, the only thing wrong with the rocky is that it wasn’t delivered to me straight from the oven in the company of a decent cup of coffee.

Sold out by the time I returned to photograph.

I stumbled across this baked marvel outside The Basement, which is the tiny eatery that is all that remains of what at one time was the main student cafeteria before it was repurposed as a giant classroom. (The cavernous upstairs space can hold 1000 students and was where Carl taught his existentialism course in the spring semester to 140 students.) I hadn’t seen the stand there before but I certainly hope it’s a regular one. 

We also want to send a shout out to the folks at home who have patiently – and not! – waited for news since our departure three weeks ago today. We’ll tell you more about what we’ve been doing in future blog posts but for now suffice it to say that our house was not ready for us to move into as promised. We’ve been living at the same guest centre that hosted Carl while he was here in spring. We know a contractor has been secured to do the required work on our house but even if they finished it today we wouldn’t be able to move in until the polytank is installed and filled with water. We also understand that the words, “it will be done this weekend” are a kind of code that should be understood as, “I do not have a sweet clue when this will be done but I dream and pray that it is complete and perfect by this weekend.” Its only uncomfortable here in the sense that the in-between state that commenced in Canada is as extended as our desire to establish our home and routine here. 

The Central Cafeteria (it's still called that, even though it isn't)