The Office Christmas Party

I work from home so my office party basically sucks. Just me and the cats, hanging out, drinking some egg nog. We tried a Secret Santa once but the cats figured out who had them, and I wasn't happy receiving hairballs.

So, I'm reaching back into my memory and calling up a story of an Office Christmas Party of yore...

It was December, 2001, when I worked on-site for The Shriver Center. The highlight of the party - the only reason to go, in fact, was the staff dessert contest. This year, I was determined to beat Vadim, the guy from IT who'd won 3 years in a row. The previous year, I had managed 3rd place with my last minute apple cranberry tart (a suprising, non-chocolate, 'dark horse' entry).

I found my latest recipe months before the party. I tried to psyche out the competition, letting it be known around the office that Vadim was going down. Four dark chocolate layers, concealing raspberry preserves. An inch thick classic crustless New York cheesecake center. True buttercream icing with a layer of crushed walnuts around the side. Perched atop the center were a few sugared walnuts. It was gorgeous.

I was pregnant and vigilantly watching my blood sugars. Every craving I'd been denying myself was layered into that cake.

I paced the party, trying to guage reaction to my masterpiece. I'd go up to people I'd never met in hopes of winning their favor, on the off chance that they were one of the secret judges. Vadim was nervous - I could tell by the way he was eyeing the room and the dessert table, comparing my gorgeous creation to the decadent trifle he was said to have worked on until 2 am.

Rumors were flying... did the heath bars Vadim used in his trifle disqualify him? A quick check of the rules confirmed that store bought ingredients were perfectly acceptable. Did Vadim really make his own desserts, or was Mrs. Vadim his secret weapon? His dad, also an employee, denied this wholeheartedly. I believed him if only because I'd seen the glint in Vadim's eye when the subject of chocolate was brought up. We were simpatico, two connosieurs with an appreciation for a duel to the last crumb. In our little tango, there was no Mrs. Vadim.

Finally, it came time for the big announcement. I was a nervous wreck, sitting with my group at our table at the Watch City Brewery in Waltham. Third place was announced - some dessert wannabe from the genetics lab and her idea of a torte (ha!). I was relieved to have dodged that bullet. It was down to me and Vadim, and the buzz was palpable. And the second place winner was...

Me. I was crushed like the walnuts that graced the side of my cake. I barely had the strength to step forwad to receive my prize and crawl back to my table. Fer chrissake, who beats a PREGNANT DIABETIC in a dessert contest???

My only consolation was when Vadim came over to me and told me that he had tasted my cake and was certain I'd beat him. It was the best he'd ever had, and he wanted the recipe.

Not bloody likely, Vadim, not bloody likely.

no names have been changed because who among us is really innocent? ;)