Fight Tiramisu

Many people don’t know that I’m a member of and also the founder of a coalition against tiramisu, aptly titled “Fight Tiramisu.” I’ve really tried to let bygones be bygones with tiramisu, but its crimes really shouldn’t be ignored any longer. It was right around two years ago, when I decided that I’d truly had enough from this deceitful little monster in a moment I call,  the showdown. Now understand that though I’m crazy, I like to project the very temporary illusion of class and sanity when I’m in public. Therefore, the showdown had to be a silent one, but that little devil knew exactly what I was thinking. It was the last straw. I was at a gathering of friends and there it was, on the table, all dressed up, and haughtily smirking at me.

Here is my issue with tiramisu, it should be delicious. It sounds delicious, and it certainly looks delicious. Has anyone ever noticed though, that it is not delicious? It tastes like a soggy cookie that had a rough life. I would go to jail defending the right cookie, and I’m not joking. Cookies have never done anything wrong to anyone and they don’t deserve mistreatment from anyone. And I’m not okay with the lie that tiramisu tells every time it saunters in the room. It is always being presented by someone who has themselves far more together than me, that knows more about both food and wine than me. It is usually packaged well. It’s still going by its fancy name, and it is gorgeous. I fell for this every time I saw it. And no matter how much my history with this little mock dessert has taught me about its unforgivable unpleasantness, when the hot guy or the hot girl, (because naturally, they’re hot), offers me tiramisu I eagerly accept it like I’m actually going to like it for once. I re-hated it for years, every bite. Why did I do this? But no, two years ago, at the showdown, I decided, “you know what, tiramisu I can’t stand you. You’re an insult to everything I hold dear in a dessert. I’m mad that you’ve portrayed yourself to be enjoyable when really you are god-awful.. I’m typically a very peaceful person, but if you try to strong arm your way on to my plate again, I will stain every wall in the house with your insides.”

My brother was out visiting me in the bay area shortly after I started my silent organization against tiramisu. Again, I feel at least some of my crazy should be my own treasure to cherish, so I told him nothing about it. We were over one of my friends’ houses and there were about 15 people there. A hot girl had brought, and started serving tiramisu. I had already sent my warning glare to the tiramisu when I first saw it in the kitchen. When it was offered to me, I respectfully, and sanely declined. However, my brother excitedly accepted the tiramisu when it was offered to him. He was so enthusiastic about it, that for a second, I actually considered trying it again, and then I remembered the showdown and came to my senses. My brother Troy and I headed back to my apartment shortly after that.

I was driving us back to where I lived, and right before we reached the 101, Troy presses the button for the passenger’s side window, and proceeds to toss the tiramisu he’d just accepted onto the street. I drive a black SUV that does not need any help at all getting dirty, and I was none to happy about his decision.

“Why the heck did you do that, Troy?” I said, in my inside voice.

“It’s gross. It‘s worse than gross. Who would do that to good ingredients?” Troy said, without remorse.

Now this I was happy about. Though I was sure that my car was wearing at least some tiramisu, really my car had seen far worse days. And at least Troy’s plate had been spared from having to endure one more moment of this treacherous dessert on it. I told him about my anti-tiramisu efforts, and that I was happy to finally get to mention this out loud!

“You know what, you’re right! I hate it too! But I always jump right on the band-wagon every single time some hot girl offers it to me. What is that? I’m in, but instead of calling it an organization, you need to call it a coalition, it sounds angrier,” my brother said this, and became my first recruit.

Since the tiramisu on the streets of San Francisco incident, I’ve been able to recruit a few more members for this coalition. Oddly, they all had about the same experience as I did. They had tasted, and even eaten tiramisu for the sake of what they believed to be etiquette for years, while silently wishing for maple doughnuts or chocolate chip cookies. Once they hear of the coalition however, they are liberated, and slightly angry. How has tiramisu managed to have a hold on them this way for this many years. How dare it! We are taking new members if you'd like to join.