This is the 12th post of a blog by Matt Porubsky called “satisfactual,” which will be updated weekly, discussing odds and ends about Topeka history and culture, with a little opinion thrown in for good measure.

I got the call yesterday from Ande Davis. He was invited, as part of seveneightfive magazine, to partake in a cupcake eating contest for charity celebrating the grand opening of Daddy Cakes’ new location at 4036 S.W. Huntoon. He asked me to be his partner. I’m not sure if it was because of my recent Pauline binge article that made him think I had what it takes, but I quickly responded with a resounding yes. I could eat some cupcakes. I wasn’t sweating it then, but I certainly broke out in a sweat with my first bite the next day.

Daddy Cakes’ new place of business is a perfect fit. Great pictures on the walls of different cake and sprinkle stylings, a packed-full display case of the products and absolutely kid friendly. Ah heck, everybody is a kid when they go in there. But let’s talk about the competition where we, the participants, got to do what no kid ever gets to do: eat as much sugar as we could. Ande and I were up against four other teams. Team one: Shawnee County Commissioner Shelly Buhler and Kansas State Senator Laura Kelly. Team Two: Rusty Walker and Jim Daniels from 94.5 Country. Team Three: Justin Marable and Karl Fundenberger from ReThink Topeka. Team Four: David Sollers and David Price from the Washburn School of Business. All had a charity. Ours was the Jayhawk State Theatre of Kansas. The winner’s charity would receive the profits from the Daddy Cakes’ grand opening from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m.

The trays set in front of each team held twelve Daddy Cakes. These are about three times the size of a normal cupcake. We had an assortment of flavors, from Peanut butter cup to Red Velvet and each of us had a small cup of water and milk. I had seen those hot dog eating competitions so I knew that the water was going to be vital to winning. I shared the info about the water with my partner, but Ande already knew. We had a short planning session on which cakes we were going to start with and were ready. I could see the determination in Ande’s eyes. His goal was set. Mine was too. They gave us a countdown from five. The audience was eager to see the sugar fest. You could feel it in the air. I glanced sideways at my competition and then realized it was right in front of me. Twelve cakes. The time had arrived.

The cup of the cake tore in two from my eagerness. The cake was chocolate with a kind of mousse frosting and a chocolate chip on top. I took a huge bite. I had never eaten a cupcake as quickly as I could before. I don’t think that is normal. So this bite was very far from the simple savoring of sweetness. In that instant, that first bite, the cupcake changed into a kind of silly putty in my mouth. All moisture in my mouth was sucked like a sponge into the cake. I felt powerless. I looked at the ten remaining cakes on the tray: impossible. Then I saw my water and had total recall. My frosting coated fingers smudged fingerprints on the clear cup and I took a drink. Instantly, I had cupcake soup in my mouth. I swallowed hard and the bite was gone, but quickly replaced with another. I found hope in that water. I communicated with my partner and continued on. There were only ten left.

My next cake was vanilla with white frosting and sprinkles. This went down amazingly well. I told Ande to concentrate on the white ones and take them down. He agreed. Communication during a consumption contest is like talking underwater. You can’t really understand what the other person is saying, so you have to combine those muffled sounds with hand signs, which are also hard with frosting fingers. Not to mention the volume of the onlookers with their hoots and hollers, jabs and cheers.

My water was empty with the end of the vanilla cake. I shouted for more and one of the employees came to my aid. I started on another vanilla and saw that Ande was finishing his second red velvet. I was starting my third and he was finishing his. I managed to glance at the other trays at that point and Ande and I were doing well in comparison. The only group that I couldn’t see was the Washburn School of Business and I had a feeling that that’s what they meant when they sat down to compete…business.

The minute warning was shouted while I was midway through the second vanilla. Ande grabbed another. The only cakes now left where peanut butter cup and chocolate. There were four. The next fifty seconds flew away and the ten-second countdown started. I had just gotten the paper cup off my next cake, not looking at what I had grabbed. I heard Ande mumble through crumbs, “Go. Go. Go.”

I shoved the cake in my mouth and felt the frosting smudge like playdough against my beard. It was peanut butter cup. I kept pushing, knowing I could drink when time was up. I just had to eat as much as I could. Then time was called. Every participants’ hands were frozen in the air over their plates. I could see their fingers shaking from sugar and adrenaline. Ande’s were too. And mine. It was over.

They collected everyone’s trays and scraped the remnants of our plates onto them and took them into the kitchen to decide on a winner.

Beside our pile of dismembered cupcakes were three beautifully huge cakes untouched. I had eaten four. Ande had eaten five. Nine. We had eaten nine. It was hard to breathe.

They announced the winners as Ande and I tried to clean our hands and faces with wet cloths. Buhler and Kelly finished fifth and Justin and Karl from ReThink took fourth. Walker and Daniles won the award for messiest and took third. Now all that was left was Washburn Business School and us. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. It was close, but seveneightfive came out victorious. Ande turned to me, after we addressed the crowd with bows, and said, “That was satisfactual.” Indeed it was. And I have to say it, victory is sweet, but it should never be that sweet.

Matt Porubsky is not a licensed therapist, statistician, historian or medical professional. But he is the 2009 Distinguished Kansan of the Year in arts and entertainment. Take that! Most of the time he just makes stuff up. But all of these stories are based on actual events.

[ June 2010 | Matt Porubsky | photos by Leah Sewell]