Pedro claims that what I made was NOT king cake at all. I contend that since I'M the one who spent (literally) HOURS researching king cake before I began, that I am far more qualified to speak as to what does, and what does not, constitute king cake. The only absolute requirement is that it must be in a ring shape, and mine was. I was forced to omit the (only OTHER requirement) step of piling symbolically colored sugars on top, but that's because I HATE the taste of food coloring and what if someone in my household turns out to be allergic to it, huh? Then I just potentially saved their lives. Plus, I don't like regular, store-boughten king cake, so there was no incentive for me to try to replicate it.
Pedro refuses to taste my king cake, on principle, or possibly out of fear (it's hard to know for sure), but that just leaves more for me! I don't mean to brag, but my first king cake was the kind of accidental masterpiece one might expect to inspire a new Food Network show: Accidental Masterpieces, and the People who Love the People who Make Them! It could also be called: Accidental Masterpieces and the People who Claim to Love The People who Make Them, yet Refuse to Taste Them, on Principle or out of Fear!
Pedro claims my filling the king cake with chocolate and then topping it with Oreos crushed into MORE chocolate, and further adorned with Oreo pieces turned a would-be cake into an abomination. He says it's borderline blasphemy, and he's refusing to be anywhere in my vicinity during any inclement weather, because he doesn't want to be caught in the crossfire of lightening intended for ME.
Pedro also says I should be stripped of my Southern Borned and Bred Certification, and specifically deprived of the right to say y'all and ain't whenever I feel like it. I can live with that, as long as nobody tries to take my cake away. Because I ain't even studyin' offering none o' y'all any of it nohow!