The year ended in a flurry mess—the blizzard of 2010. The snow was beautiful, but the cabin fever was killing us. How much of a Cake Boss TLC marathon can you handle without needing earplugs? I swear I can hear that loud Italian mother in my sleep. Well, at least this wasn’t New York City and our streets were plowed. It seemed every five minutes Mayor Bloomberg was holding a press conference to apologize for the big parking lot that was New York. Abandoned cars were everywhere. We were lucky. We had enough snowplows in our little City to clear it. So, when the weather warmed, we decided to take a road trip. Where? Hoboken, of course. We wanted to see what all the fuss was about a little New Jersey bakery with a big TV show.
We also needed some mother-daughter time. It’s been hard for my Teen this past year when her baby sister arrived. She adored being the only child. She was really good at it. She even had phrases for it: that’s mine, my mommy, you’re my best friend—the emphasis being on MY. Since she found out about the new baby, her vocabulary had slightly changed. It was more like: I hate you. You are ruining my life. I hate being here! She must have run out of words, because lately she’s been retreating to her room, saying nothing at all. I was looking forward to this time together. Maybe it would forge a dialogue again. One that didn’t end with a door slamming. I thought this trip was going to be a real treat—in more ways than one.
The bakery was only an hour and a half away on the GPS; we could be there at 11:30 a.m., just in time for a cream-filled cannoli lunch. I had it planned: I was going to eat all the cream right out of the shell first, then little by little, nibble the shell. Cannolis were to be savored slowly. Especially good ones, and I was optimistic.
We invited my sister and her daughter to come too. So us four girls backed out of my snowy driveway, sailed through I-95 South, then Westchester, and even the NYC snowdown. Over 9A and through Lincoln Tunnel and Hello Hoboken, here we are!
OH MY GOD. Holy Freakin’ Cannoli! The line down Washington Street looked about four hours long! We learned quickly that the line was for the bakery and not for the CVS a block down. Was a cannoli worth this effort? We didn’t even have a parking spot yet. And it was looking a lot like NYC, every car was snowed in on the side streets. Maybe we could park in front of Cluck U and get chicken instead? My sister decided to drop us off in front of the bakery and then look for a spot. When we heard someone in line say it took about an hour and a half, we were in. We climbed over the snow, through slush, and hit the end of the line, way past the CVS. Are the lines always like this, we asked the bakery attendant on street duty. “Oh yeah, It’s always like this. And City Hall always calls us to say they are going to shut us down because people crowd the sidewalks.” With all the business the Cake Boss is bringing into Hoboken, it seemed odd the city would shut it down, but what do I know? I was having my own love-hate relationship with baked goods.
After two and a half hours and two numb big toes, we finally we made it to the door. And here’s how we got in. A teenager asked how many in our party. We told her four. All of a sudden, someone stepped in front of us, asked the girl a couple of questions, and she forgets we were next. I hold my hand out to get the number ticket and she tells me there is a line and I need to get at the end of it. I proudly explained that we’ve been waiting in it for almost three hours and she told us it was finally our turn to go inside.” After she apologized for not remembering us, we were allowed in.
When we finally make our way into the tiny shop, we see teenagers like her everywhere, donning Carlo’s hats and aprons, taking orders, reprimanding people for touching the glass, and shouting over and over, “Anyone want to order hats or T-shirts?” It was the cirque du soleil of cannolis. I felt like I needed to do a flying leap just to get over all the people so I could order something. People were everywhere, crammed in, shouting orders, snapping pictures, and complaining that Dunkin Donuts would have been just as good. At least they would have had coffee. It was chaos. “Number 9!” Hey, that’s us. Well, step right up! It’s the Greatest Show On Earth!
What do we want? We can’t even see the bakery cases to make a decision. Cannolis, yes, some cupcakes, brownies look good and those lobster claws. But they are out of their renowned crumb cake. We should have called ahead. Should we get another cake? Let’s get some of this, some of that. We order anything we can see. Then the sister comes out and the place went nuts. The kids get their photos, and we leave. We were in the bakery a total of 16 minutes. We get on the road moments later and rush hour traffic puts us home by 7:30 p.m.
You know, when I look back on thus experience, it seems almost ridiculous we waited in line that long, but the sweet tooth excitement in my daughter made it all worth it. Mom, she said. I had a really good time today. You were fun. I wish you were like this all the time.
Maybe she’s right. I am different now. Even though I said I wouldn’t change, I guess I did. I’m not used to all these schedules of naps, nursing, baths, and potty training. That’s what daycare helped with. Now I am home, I am doing it. And not well. I’m boxed in by organization. I never did it well and now I have to learn. I am going against my grain, learning a new way, and it’s hard. It hinders my creativity and seriously makes me want to throw up. So every day I keep my barf bag in my pocket book hoping I’ll have the desire to use it less and less. And for now, that’s just the way it has to be.
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