When you think of New Orleans King Cakes I bet your first thought is cross fit and stitches, right?  It isn’t?  It is mine…Funny story…

Before this king cake I’d only ever made cakes and cookies. Mostly cookies.  Or things I could quickly mix with All Purpose Flour, pour in a pan, and not have to really worry about it. Stay on the safe and delicious side.  The quicker I could eat it the better.  It doesn’t have to be fancy.  Plus, I’d never touched a pack of yeast or bread flour in my life.  What’s the difference between flours anyway?  That costs more money.  I made cinnamon rolls once, but I don’t even remember using yeast?  I still even had the recipe. Why DON’T I ever make cinnamon rolls??  The thought of it was so intimidating.  Yeast activating…rising…rolling…filling…more rising…so much work and time.  Who did I think I was???  I’d only seen bread made in professional bakeries or done so perfectly and effortlessly on Food Network…you know, the edited shots. Why screw up the idealism?  I LOVE BREAD for goodness sakes.

One day after work, and being up since 3:45 AM, I decided to work out.  I was exhausted, but persevere we must.  That particular day was a great idea it seemed for a cross fit routine that I hadn’t done in FOREVERRRR.  I hadn’t worked out in a while…much less done cross fit, but I couldn’t be THAAAT out of shape so fast, right?  Box jumps.  I’d done them before.  Not recently, but before.  Muscle memory?

He who hesitates is lost.

I knew as I was jumping I shouldn’t have jumped.  I left the floor and didn’t make it all the way up.  I fell.  No big deal.  It didn’t even hurt.  I looked down at my leg and saw blood. It wasn’t a lot of blood.  Just a scratch.  “Man, this is embarrassing. I have to walk down the hall with blood on my leg.  Maybe nobody will notice.”

I made it into the locker room without seeing another human being, wiped my leg, and when I moved the napkin saw a perfect hole the size of a quarter in my shin.  It still didn’t hurt and even more amazing it wasn’t even bleeding!  All I thought was “I can see through my leg.” and then I started passing out.  By myself.  In the locker room.

“It’s ok. I’m passing out. It’s ok”, I thought.  I didn’t want to cause a scene so I went to the back stair well trying to figure out what to do.  Pass out by myself and die in a corner alone like an animal seemed like the best option at the time.  I finally decided to get help.  Long story short I waved my buddy who thought I was being silly…
“I fell, but I’m ok.”
“Let me see…”
“Ok…?”
“OH MY GOD!!!!!!!”

My Dad happened to be there…
“OH MY GOD!!”

Another coworker came in…
“That’s SO COOL!!”

Me: “I think I’m passing out…”

And that conversation went in a circle for 10 minutes.

I got 6 stitches in my leg and watched the whole thing.  It was one of the coolest things to ever happen to me and when would I ever get this opportunity again???  “So can I finish my work out now?” “No.”  “There’s this run this weekend…” “No.”

What do King Cakes have to do with box jumps?

At the locker room revelation my first thought besides “I’m passing out” was “What are the odds that my insurance didn’t kick in yet?”  There was a mix up and my insurance wouldn’t be effective until a few months later. I couldn’t afford a trip to the ER.

My dad and I went to the ER and all I kept saying was “It’s going to be ok.  It’ll work out. God will take care of me.  He always takes care of the stupid.”

I brain stormed how this would work.  I could sell organs.  I could sell plasma.  I could sell things on ebay.  I could possibly sell organs and plasma on ebay.
I live in New Orleans.  It was King Cake season.
I CAN MAKE KING CAKES!  It can’t be that hard right?  You get some yeast, wait for it to rise. Roll it.  Ice it.  (It’s amazing what a little desperation can do.)

After making my first king cake the kitchen was a disaster.  I do not say that with exaggeration.  I didn’t know I could make that big of a mess.  There was flour EVERYWHERE.

The first recipe I found tasted like bread and sugar.  That’s it.  I could have cried.  It had NO FLAVOR. I knew when I read the recipe it may not work out, but trust the recipe…right? All that work and it was such a disappointment.  I brought it to work and everyone nicely said it was good.  “BUT, IT DOESN’T HAVE FLAVOR??  What is wrong with you??  You’re all from New Orleans!” I wanted to say, but kept to myself.

I went home and mixed the bread recipe with my cinnamon roll recipe and that is how I started selling King Cakes.  And I told you God would look out for me.  When I went to pay my ER bill after procrastinating for so long they worked with me and gave me a discounted price.  I screamed and started crying (Matthew 6:25).

That was last year.  This year my coworkers persistently asked if I was making King Cakes this year. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it.”

I sold King Cakes this year, too, and they were better than last.  What would I do without my coworkers?

And that is why whenever I think of King Cakes I think of the ER (and miracles).