The Horror

I made a chocolate cake that was as dark as the devil's heart and sweet as an angel's breath. This cake was unspeakably delicious. Chocolate cake is my favorite dessert, so I was exceedingly proud of my accomplishment.

Oh, pride, why do you always precede a fall?

I consumed a hefty slice of this sinful cake and within an hour I felt like my esophagus was brimming over with liquid hot magma. Ack. Ack.

I chalked it up to overindulgence, and the following day I consumed a much more reasonable splinter of this cake that was moist as forest moss. To my absolute horror, my esophagus erupted in a bright pain the shade of holly berries within the same hour. Ack. Ack.

I spent the better part of the week rending my garments and groaning to all who would listen that I had displeased the gods who punished me with a chocolate cake allergy! Woe is me!

But now I've returned to sanity and realize that I must test all the components of that particular evil cake and determine if I am reacting to one of them or a combination. I bravely tested a dark chocolate bar with no ill effects, so I am not allergic to chocolate. Praise the gods of the sea!   

Now I have to work my way through sugar, eggs, coffee...no, wait I had coffee this morning and was fine, glory to the bean!--and flour. How am I going to test flour? I really don't want to eat a spoonful of flour, but if I bake it into something I don't know if I'll get an accurate result. I shall have to ponder this.