I have been eating Entenmann’s for years
It started when my mom would buy the chocolate chip cookies for my sister and hide them on top of the refrigerator. My brother and I would climb up and get the box. In the olden days, you could fold down the side of the box, sneak a bunch of cookies out, and make it look like it was never opened. Of course, in this day and age you cannot do that anymore, because the boxes are sealed. But back then it worked for us. Good times.
Fast forward to every year since then. There was the chocolate donut with the chocolate crumb phase. The yellow cake with chocolate icing phase. The raspberry danish phase. And a brief, but memorable, cinnamon bun phase. Through all those phases, all those pounds gained and lost and gained again, there was always the marshmallow iced devils food cake. It remained a consistent part of my life.
Son #1’s diet, while in utero, was basically that cake and tuna melts. Though, surprisingly, well, not surprisingly if you know the Ganchrow male eating habits, Son #1 never liked the cake or tuna melts. Go figure.
Throughout the years, I have witnessed the rise in cost of my beloved Entenmann’s products. Buy-one-get-one-free sales were always the most cost-effective, but in 2026, they aren’t even that great. I mean, a cake costs about $8 now. For less than $8, I can buy two Duncan Hines Devils Food cake mixes and a large tup of Marshmallow Fluff and make several cakes. But, I gave in and bought my beloved cake and a box of soft milk chocolate chip cookies. No, I am still not going on Ozempic.
Anyway, I put the cake in the refrigerator, because I only like it cold. Don’t ask, it’s a thing. Yes, I know I shouldn’t be eating it at all, but that isn’t the point of this column. The point is that when I took my first bite of the cake that has brought me love, joy, and consistency through the ups and downs of my life, it tasted, well, burnt.
Burnt? How can that be? So, I do what every professional junk food eater does. I took another bite. Still burnt. The world is coming to an end. The sky is falling. Moshiach is coming. Something must be happening that the one thing I rely on in life is burnt. Okay, so perhaps I am exaggerating a bit…It isn’t the only thing I rely on, but some things are supposed to taste the same always.
What am I supposed to do? I can’t return a partially eaten cake, can I?
I decide to call the number on the box. A woman answers the phone, and I explain why I am calling. “It was burnt?” the woman asks. “Yes, it tasted burnt, so I am assuming it was burnt,” I reply. “Are you sure? No one has ever called with that complaint before,” she responds.
“I don’t think you know who you are dealing with. I am a professional cake eater. It was burnt. Trust me,” I explain politely.
She asks me for my address and tells me that I will be receiving several coupons in the mail.
Will I receive these coupons? And if I do, should I be using them to buy more cakes that I don’t need? Probably. Are you sitting on the edge of your seats waiting to hear how this tale ends? I doubt it, and that is okay.
The lesson of this column? Nothing in life is consistent. Nothing is forever. Everything good and beautiful and delicious needs to be appreciated at the moment you are experiencing it because it is all fleeting and goes by way too fast.
As I write this, I am sitting in the waiting room waiting for Husband #1 to get his epidural. Praying for positive results because that is a lot more important than the quality of a cake!
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is looking forward to Camp Babka Part 1. Even if it does mean sharing a room with a 5-year-old who likes to wake up early.