Sometimes I think the entire country of France is obsessed with pastry. No wait, that’s just me. Any day of the year one can satisfy even the most severe of cravings but on January 6, known to religious types as The Epiphany, the French roll out a special one. It’s called the galette des rois, or king cake and there’s no escaping them. The other day there must have been hundreds of them steaming on trays at the entrance of the grocery store.

So of course my better two thirds decided this was a vital element of cultural assimilation and brought one home.

Mmmm, puff pastry stuffed with frangipane (roughly the size of a North American pie). The tradition is that hidden somewhere inside is a tiny ceramic trinket. Whoever happens to find it becomes king for a day and gets to wear that gorgeous golden paper crown so conveniently provided. Of course His Highness Garbage Guts didn’t know about this piece of French folklore and he almost choked to death on a miniature figurine before he could even take his seat on the throne.

Well, that’s what you get for inhaling an entire galette without offering a single crumb to the royal taster. King for a day my arse, the odds of his coronation were exactly 100%. But this is the second galette, the great equalizer, and my friends this time he’s agreed to give me a shot at the title. If I move fast enough and find the trinket that makes me queen for the day. My decree will involve a back massage, a solid hour of him listing all the reasons why he loves me followed by a three hour discussion of the emotional dynamic of our marriage. Someone call the Guinness Book Of World Records. We’re about to see a man eat an entire cake in one bite.