The Wild Cake Chase

My journey to funfetti in New York City.

New York City: it’s the world’s hub for having anything you want. Grasshopper tacos? Check. Bocce tournaments? You got it. Underwear run? Why not.

New York’s diversity allows you to the possibility of “anything”—from camping in Prospect Park and sailing on the East River, to eating authentic ramen, “secret” ramen, or 20-cent packs of bodega ramen. Whether you need to furnish your apartment, throw together a dinner party, train for a triathlon, or buy the appropriate gifts for a bridal shower, baby shower, cousin’s bar mitzvah, and parent’s 25th wedding anniversary, you can find it all, and probably within a 20 block radius.

So when I decided to bake a funfetti cake for my dear friend’s birthday, I was quite surprised when it took three hours, two boroughs, and 16 grocery stores in order to find its two star ingredients: cake mix and icing.

But first, a few facts about funfetti cake.

The genius idea of mixing sprinkles into cake mix was unveiled by Pillsbury (and a mystery employee who is my personal hero) back in 1990. Since then, the generation who quoted Saved By The Bell and made mixed tapes was also having birthday parties with a special, delicious guest: a funfetti cake.

24 years later and funfetti has experienced a second wave of well-deserved appreciation. Buzzfeed shows us the endless ways to use funfetti batter. So does Cosmopolitan, Babble, and Martha. Even the famous Momofuku Milk Bar has its funfetti-inspired birthday cake recipe, and the tumblr funfetti feed will leave your mouth salivating for days on end.

But if you’re a resident in New York City and want to make a funfetti cake, let me warn you now: funfetti is fucking hard to find.

I began my journey in the Flatiron District.

I went to Fairway, where they pride themselves for being “much more than a grocery store or a supermarket.”

I call bullshit.

Sure, they have 80 different types of cheese, three aisles devoted solely to organic and natural foods, and a pretty awesome pickle bar. But their baking aisle sucks; they only had chocolate cake mix, cream cheese frosting, and nonpareil sprinkles.

Feeling slightly defeated, this was my first pang of “shit this might be harder than I thought.” I decided to check the three Duane Reade’s I passed on my walk south, hoping the glorified pharmacy would be more likely to carry my cake mix.

Every trip down a Duane Reade aisle made my heart jump. In the corner of my eye I’d catch a plastic container with a red lid, which at a quick glance screamed “frosting” but was only, and always, Chef Boyardee beef ravioli.

Next, I went to West Side Market, which to my relief had a robust baking section. (I quickly became aware of the huge adrenaline I’d experience when walking down each store’s baking aisle.) I scanned the many types of cake mix they carried: yellow, carrot cake, cherry chip, pineapple upsidedown, strawberry, and chocolate fudge. As for frosting, they had coconut pecan, cookies n’ creme, french vanilla, and triple chocolate chip.

But no funfetti.

I started to worry.

In desperation, I walked to the Garden of Eden gourmet market. Their baking items were shoved in the corner next to the cereal, evaporated milk, and freezer section. I purchased two tubs of vanilla frosting and a thing of rainbow sprinkles as a backup “DIY” funfetti plan. Then I went to Whole Food’s pretty much knowing what I’d find: eight different gluten-free cake mixes, organic cake mixes, low-sugar cake mixes, and quinoa-buckwheat-tastes-just-like-cake mixes. I cursed at the broccoli and kombucha on my way out and tried another Duane Reade, Walgreens, and CVS before heading to the subway.

I stopped at Atlantic Terminal to give Target a shot, since it seemed like one of those places where they’d sell funfetti in the $1 sale bins near the checkout.

There was no funfetti. Tempted to stay and buy a new wardrobe, set of towels, and some discounted DVD’s, I beelined to the exit and went back underground.

I was near my apartment, convinced my journey to funfetti would probably be a failure. I kicked myself for not ordering what I needed on Amazon (that you can do). The two organic stores had gluten free mixes, yellow cake mixes, and your standard vanilla and chocolate frostings. The three bodegas had more Chef Boyardee.

I told myself I’d call it quits after my last resort: the Compare Foods two blocks from my home.

I don’t know what makes funfetti such an low-demand product in this city.

Time and time again I would look at a store clerk with an anxious set of eyes as I asked,

“You sure you don’t have funfetti in the back?”

“Yes, we’re sure.”

“Well, can you check again?”

“Miss, I’m sure we don’t have it”

“You should really consider carrying funfetti. It’s quite good.”

…

“It’s for my friend. She loves funfetti more than I do. You are ruining her birthday.”

I walked to Compare Foods on the verge of tears.

I was pissed the Center of the Universe couldn’t provide me a stupid box of cake mix. It was nearing 10pm, and I had started my search at 7pm after work. My bag was getting heavy. I hadn’t eaten dinner.

When I went down Compare Food’s baking aisle, there was no adrenaline rush. I had already started thinking of what lame-cake alternative I could make instead, and how in the card I would say that I tried.

So of course, by some will of the Brooklyn Gods, in front of my eyes was approximately 67 boxes of funfetti cake. What’s more, they carried every type of funfetti icing, from vibrant green vanilla to chocolate fudge confetti.

They were even on sale.

I stopped to search for the symbolism. Everything you need is right at your fingertips? Close to home? That sometimes the things you take for granted are actually not so commonplace? A strong friendship means you must go on wild cake chases?

I could have gone on and on as I stood there in Aisle 7, surrounded by all the funfetti I could ever need. But I stopped myself, picked out what I needed, and headed to the checkout.

I had a cake to bake.