Cubism

Choux cube!

When the Professor brought these home, there was a collective gasp, then silence. It was like looking at alien technology. Choux Cube. Of course. Japan, the land of French pastry appropriation, had taken the magical, cumulus cream puff, once so Marie Antoinette voluptuous, and contained it in the strictest 90 degree angles, like a slick Noguchi sculpture. Dang.

The pastry was still airy and tender. Inside, the cream was that alchemical mix of whipped cream and custard. The strawberry had little bits of fruit folded into the filling, and the lightest whiff of berry in the white chocolate glaze. The vanilla had the requisite flecks of bean inside, and actually the best of the glazes for its vanilla fragrance. Turns out, vanilla is all you need to convert me to white chocolate. The chocolate filling was lovely, of course, and not as heavy as you might think. So I think maybe I get minimalism now, because I suddenly want to wear all white and empty my home of everything but a few square pillows and a potted orchid. And boxes and boxes of cream puffs.

Look at them--like little office worker in their cubicles. Except you can eat them.