My friend is coming over and bringing a Rosca de Reyes with her.
We are celebrating the Mexican observance of "Three Kings Day" where you get to eat sweet bread and make a wish or something.
The last time I tried the Rosca (which is a sweet bread in a wreath shape) I had an unpleasant encounter with the Son of God.
If you have ever eaten one of those Mardi Gras cakes with the little plastic baby hidden in them, you may know where I'm going with this.
The Rosca has several small figurines hidden it. The baby Jesus is the one that gets you the most points apparently.
I took my slice and bit into it without a care in the world. Almost immediately, my front tooth crashed against something very hard and the pain radiated up through my skull.
I spit the bread out and pulled a tiny ceramic baby Jesus out of the mess.
There he lay, in his tiny ceramic manger, gazing peacefully at me with the serenity of one who has done no wrong and knows no guilt.
I warned my friend that I would probably tear my bread into tiny pieces before I ate it and she seemed unphased by my unorthodox ways.
I have a tiny chip in my front tooth to remind me of the last time I celebrated with a Rosca and I don't want to have another "come to Jesus moment" with the same painful consequences.
We are celebrating the Mexican observance of "Three Kings Day" where you get to eat sweet bread and make a wish or something.
The last time I tried the Rosca (which is a sweet bread in a wreath shape) I had an unpleasant encounter with the Son of God.
If you have ever eaten one of those Mardi Gras cakes with the little plastic baby hidden in them, you may know where I'm going with this.
The Rosca has several small figurines hidden it. The baby Jesus is the one that gets you the most points apparently.
I took my slice and bit into it without a care in the world. Almost immediately, my front tooth crashed against something very hard and the pain radiated up through my skull.
I spit the bread out and pulled a tiny ceramic baby Jesus out of the mess.
There he lay, in his tiny ceramic manger, gazing peacefully at me with the serenity of one who has done no wrong and knows no guilt.
I warned my friend that I would probably tear my bread into tiny pieces before I ate it and she seemed unphased by my unorthodox ways.
I have a tiny chip in my front tooth to remind me of the last time I celebrated with a Rosca and I don't want to have another "come to Jesus moment" with the same painful consequences.
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