Colin The Caterpillar Cake
in Cuisine - 11/07/2016
Colin the Caterpillar Cake
Marks & Spencer
Marks & Spencer
*Winner of the first Arnold Review Perfect 10 score*
I’m not a religious man, but holy shit, if this isn’t the closest to Heaven on Earth there is, then I don’t know nor care what is. If you’re not six years old, or have been living under a rock or an oppressive regime for the past handful of decades, then let me introduce you to Marks and Spencer’s Colin the Caterpillar Cake; a slab of the sweetest sensory delight that human kind can never top no matter what the lab coats are trying to do at CERN.
Featuring a chocolate sponge cake rolled with buttercream and protected with a thick coating of chocolate whilst finally having been decorated with more chocolate, this is one chocolatey son of a bitch apparently constructed by a team of 38 (quite possibly blind) people according to Wikipedia. Now let’s face it, it looks like a toddlers attempt at designing a crap Pokémon but I’m not going to deduct points from that as I’m going to eat the shit out of it, not hang it on my wall.
Straight out of the packaging, this waxy club of sugar in varying formats has the idle power to lift the mood to heights only known by lovestruck poets and those that dare to dream. Dissect the cake and the magic bursts out causing everyone to revert back to the happiest days in their childhood, long before the crushing weight of adulthood caused us to stare at our worn out shoes rather than the sky.
You’ve never known a more appealing sound than when your knife cracks through the chocolate shell when you’re dividing and deciding on which half you’ll eat now and which you’ll save for later. As for the taste, surprisingly you don’t instantly die of a chocolate induced seizure. There’s a ‘one more slice’ command that your brain issues until the whole thing is gone, at least in my experiments. There are some cakes in the world where after one slice you wave the white flag and retreat to a safer place; with Colin the Caterpillar, you get the feeling that it’s all going to be okay. Nothing will get to you if you have one of these waiting for you when you get home.
If I were given to option by the powers that be to either spend my last £7 on this cake, or £7 to oil and fix the button that ends all of the worlds anguish, elevating our species to an almost god-like state of zen causing great leaps in technology and eradicating the barriers that divide us and stomp us down to where we are all one, I’d be halfway down to my nearest Marks and Spencer.