When Paul Arnott was a small boy his mother gave him sugar and melted butter for a sore throat and all hot meals were followed by sponge and custard. His first love was the magnificent green tin of Tate & Lyle's faux honey from Warrington: Golden Syrup. A passionate affair with sweet stuff had begun. Paul's love of sugar has taken him far and wide. From a cake factory in Bangalore where, on the basis of his round face he was offered a role in a Bollywood film, to Pennyslvania to investigate the town of Hershey, built by the ...
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When Paul Arnott was a small boy his mother gave him sugar and melted butter for a sore throat and all hot meals were followed by sponge and custard. His first love was the magnificent green tin of Tate & Lyle's faux honey from Warrington: Golden Syrup. A passionate affair with sweet stuff had begun. Paul's love of sugar has taken him far and wide. From a cake factory in Bangalore where, on the basis of his round face he was offered a role in a Bollywood film, to Pennyslvania to investigate the town of Hershey, built by the chocolate magnate for his workers. He pays homage to the work of the Papa Bubble at the Caramel Artisans factory shop in Barcelona and the master baker of the Greek island of Spetses. Into the mix he adds something of the history, economy and industry of sugar. As Paul's love of sweet stuff grew, so did his waist. He contends that, contrary to what many would have us believe, eating cake isn't a sin. It's an indulgence. And the experiences that caused every extra pound should be revered and celebrated. LET ME EAT CAKE is a memoir of love for sweet sensations, Larousse Gastronomique written by Billy Bunter. Funny, charming and full of surprising stories it will leave you feeling deliciously full.
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Seller's Description:
Very good. From the moment the six-year-old Paul Arnott sampled the contents of Tate & Lyle's magnificent green and gold tin of Golden Syrup, it was love. As he looks back over his life as a constant enthusiast, an occasional connoisseur and a relentless collector of sweet sensations, he remembers the Great Royal Icing Disaster of '72, High Tea at Buckingham Palace, Seb Coe and Treacle Tart, and discusses the legal implications of cake-naming in Vienna. Inevitably, such dedication to sweet stuff has taken its toll-which is how Paul found himself dressed as Father Christmas, no padding required. But this is not a man who believes that eating cake is a sin. It's an indulgence. And the experiences that cause every extra pound should be revered and celebrated.
