Being Naughty with Whipped Cream

I've noticed a disturbing trend on restaurant menus lately. This is probably the most distressing change to casual dining since the Restaurant Free Trade Act of 1998 made it mandatory for each restaurant chain to offer it's own interpretation of the deep fried onion blossom. No one has ever finished one of these grease soaked behemoths, nor would you want to. Simply inhaling the aroma will leave you homebound for the next 48 hours needing a steady supply of Charmin at hand. Preferably quilted.

The change I am referring to involves the loose morals and devil may care attitude of restaurant desserts. They are no longer the innocent sweet treats to reward you for finishing off that plate of fajitas. Despite their delicate flaky crusts, fluffy meringues, and creamy fillings, desserts have gone wild like sorority girls in Cancun after six shots of Jagermeister and two bass thumping reprieves of "In Da Club".

Innocent desserts like chocolate cake have been replaced with desserts with monikers like Death by Chocolate, Chocolate Decadence, and Chocolate Suicide. Gone are the wholesome tortes, cheesecakes and ice creams. In their place are Lethal Injection of Raspberry Torte, Seizure Inducing Strawberry Cheesecake, and Crime of Passionfruit Sorbet.

The name change was the result of a series of psychological studies sponsored by the Restaurant Owners Association of America. When offered two identical pieces of cake, one simply called 'chocolate cake', the other called the "Chocolate Wall of Death", test subjects preferred the Wall of Death by ratio of 5:1. In a second study, the subjects were only given the names and the costs of the desserts. The majority still preferred the Wall of Death even though it cost four dollars more than plain old cake. The study concluded that humans, despite our evolved brain stem capable of maintaining all of the complex systems that make life possible while being able to recall choking on a popcorn hull back in 1987 when we took Wendy Carmichael to see Spaceballs at the drive in, are idiots.

We love to be bad dammit. If not bad, as close to bad as you can get in a restaurant with junk from yesteryear nailed haphazardly to the walls. Aside from the 1500 calories, consuming a dessert with a name of ill repute is the only way most of us will walk on the wild side.

It's possible though, that these tawdry named tortes remind us of the times in our lives when we chose not to be bad, and regret it. Maybe each bite of Raspberry Indulgence is a tribute to every freaky girl with a leather miniskirt, tongue ring and magenta hair you secretly thought was hot but never approached because you were afraid what people would think. Or perhaps you see this as a crusade and every dessert consumed is another triumph of good over evil. Or maybe you are tempting your own mortality, so each episode of dining out ends with a battle of life and Chocolate Death. There's nothing quite as satisfying as the thrill of staring death in the face, even if he has a cherry for a nose.

It won't be long until more industries recognize our preference for decadently named products and adopt the "bad is good" naming philosophy for their wares and services. If you look closely, some have already started (how else can you explain the title of this piece?). One day soon you will pull up to your regular oil change place and be faced with the choice of $19.99 economy service or the Sinful $25.99 Vehicle Debauchery.

You know which one you want, you naughty thing you.

(Posted to my online humor column, The Dimmer Switch, on 12/5/05. Link to original column)