When I first heard about Dubai’s $7,000 cocktail, I remember thinking that humanity’s capacity for overpriced food dishes had finally reached its limit, but apparently, that’s not the case. One Lisa Sanguedolce of Le Dolci Bakery in Toronto has shattered all of my expectations by presenting the world with a $900 cupcake. Consisting of buttercream straight from Normandy, real Tuscan cacao, gold flakes, diamond sprinkles, champagne-infused cream, drizzled cognac, and caviar bubbles, this little bundle of joy has reinvented the bakery business by somehow making cupcakes a luxury item. Would I ever pay $900 for a cupcake? Absolutely not. That is, not unless it satisfied at least one of the following requirements:
1) Must be granted knighthood by the queen.
Any food item that costs the same amount as an illegal organ on the black market must have some connection to royalty, even if it’s just a “knighthood” certificate issued by the queen. In other words, if this cupcake cannot get me into Kate Middleton‘s next baby shower, I will not put it in my belly. I don’t care how much bling it’s wearing.
2) Must star in one or more viral videos on YouTube.
“Protestor Shares Expensive Cupcake, Brings World Peace.” “Jim Carrey Confesses Admiration for Le Dolci Baked Good.” “Pope Has Lunch with Sanguedolce Cupcake, Things Get Awkward.” All acceptable video titles. A cupcake with real fame might be too much to ask for, but YouTube fame is a reasonable request.
3) Must be widely recognized by regular people and celebrities alike.
You know what, I retract my previous statement. This cupcake is $900. If I don’t receive private Twitter messages from at least three celebs congratulating me on my cupcake purchase and inviting me to their red carpet premiere, I’m not getting my money’s worth.
4) Must be guilt-free.
Using gastronomy (basically magic), Sanguedolce was able to inject her creation with caviar-flavored air pockets, a task that seems wildly more difficult than scientifically engineering a sugar-free cupcake that does not taste like dirt. For $900, I need to be able to savor every cake-y morsel without the fear of “calorie overload” hanging over my head.
5) Must come with a decorative leaf from the Garden of Eden.
Each time I bite into my cupcake (all three bites), I should feel temporarily transported back to a time of pure happiness and innocence. I need to hear the Satanic snake whispering sweet, sinister nothings in my ear and feel the rose-scented wind on my back. I want to experience a baked good that elevates me spiritually. For that, I would consider paying $900. Maybe.
6) Must be made with water from the Great Barrier Reef. . .
Yes, this cherished Australian landmark is already on the brink of complete ruination, but how else am I to achieve that splash of exoticism that defines the perfect cupcake? Wrestling a jaguar for some of its fur is out of the question (they are descendants of cats, and I could never do that to one of my own) so GBR water is really the only option.
7) . . .and Swedish Fish that were actually made in Sweden.
They can still be small and red and frightfully chewy, but they need to be stirred and molded by the hands of a fine Swedish man. I mean, I need to be able to actually taste the colors of the Swedish flag. Make me taste colors, cupcake.
8) Must use gold forged in the fires of Mount Doom.
A cupcake with gold flakes sprinkled on top is all well and good, but if I’m paying an arm and a leg for it, I must insist that the baker use the highest quality ingredients. If the box does not say “Hobbit tested, Smeagol approved” on it, it’s not worthy of my taste buds. This applies to the rest of my diet.
9) Must contain angel tears.
Or tears taken straight from the eyes of Jesus. Or at the very least, taken from a guy that looks like Jesus. Maybe his name is Jesús. Maybe he dresses in a robe and wanders around Venice Beach. I don’t know, but it needs to have a somewhat heavenly vibe.
10) Must be decorated with rubies taken from the UK’s Crown Jewels.
Long story short, one jewel off a 20 million pound hat and a handful of slightly ridiculous requests would be required to convince me to eat a $900 cupcake. Keep in mind, though, I’m pretty stubborn, so my demands may be a bit more complex than the average person’s. Which leads me to my next question: what, in your opinion, would make a $900 cupcake worth it (if anything)?