Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a young girl named Cinderella. She was kind, gentle, and had a heart full of dreams. However, her life was not as magical as the fairy tales she loved. Cinderella lived with her wicked stepmother and two mean stepsisters who treated her like a servant. Despite her circumstances, Cinderella remained hopeful. She believed that one day, her dreams would come true.
Owner Javi Bubar said when they opened that their goal was to bring something new to Dallas. "We do a lot of travel and we saw a similar concept in Bangkok and thought it would well received in Dallas," she said.
They also have some new lunch dishes including quintessential autumn item butternut squash soup and fish tempura, but that has nothing to do with happy hour, let s stay focused here, people. Magical Dessert Bar featured desserts in unicorn colors, with unicorn cakes, milkshakes, boba tea, cupcakes, cake pops, and lemonades in different flavors like mango, pomegranate, and berry-berry, in decorative colors.
She believed that one day, her dreams would come true. One evening, an invitation arrived at Cinderella's doorstep -- the royal ball. It was an evening where the prince would choose his bride.
At Deep Ellum’s Magical Dessert Bar, the Glitter Is Gone
The first time I walked past the Magical Dessert Bar in Deep Ellum, I experienced a visceral reaction. It was months ago—several weeks before the shop had opened. I was struck by a troop of large, plush, unicorns that were attached to clear string and hanging above the entryway.
“What the *f-bomb* is this?” I asked my companion. She shrugged. I pressed my face to the window. The space was dark, so it was difficult to fully assess the situation. I could see a sprawling counter, bright pink walls, and a gang of fuzzy, mythical creatures, with dopey expressions on their faces, flaccidly dangling from a ceiling, which was as pink as the walls.
A couple of weeks later, an Instagram post caught my eye: a tray of brightly colored unicorn cake pops and a caption, which read “Happy Thanksgiving to all our lovely fans. Everything Unicorn. Opening December 1st!” There were a set of gold hooves hovering in the top right corner of the photo.
Oh, dear lord, it’s the place!
I quickly scrolled past the image, to avoid throwing my phone across the room. But there was no hiding from Magical Dessert Bar.
There was a media tsunami, mostly glorifying the new, presumably whimsical, enchanting, over-the-top, playful, dreamy, dessert bar. Nearly everybody had something pleasant to say. It is apparently opening a second location in Houston. (If I read the phrase “sweet treats” one more time, I’m going to explode into a billion fragments of not-so-sweet goo. It’s going to be messy, and poor Shawn and Natalie, who sit next to me, are going to be left to deal with what’s left. So, please, stop typing that phrase. Do it for them.)
I knew I had to check the place out. It’s my job, after all. But I’d read Yelp reviews of how people waited, behind other people, for two and a half hours to wrap their fingers around overflowing milkshakes and cupcakes pierced with metallic gold horns. I’m not a huge fan of lines. So, I waited for the hoopla to fade and chose a dreary Tuesday afternoon (this week) to check it out. I figured that’d be a safe time, free of queues. I was right.
The shop is located amid a walk-through patio, between Elm and Main Street, next to the business’ sister shop, Chills 360. The space is lined with dark, wooden picnic tables. (Mine was festively sprinkled with soggy Fruity Pebbles, but we’ll get back to that in a minute.) There is no seating inside Magical Dessert Bar. So, be prepared to ingest your sugary snacks on a plain ‘ol table, next to a plain ‘ol brick wall. Maybe, if you really use your imagination, you can pretend that you’re in a medieval dungeon, or something. That kind of coincides with unicorn lore, right?
iPhone photography by me.
The interior is small. There’s enough room to look over the menu, which is displayed on two flat screen TVs; peruse the baked goods; snap an Instagram video of the bubblegum-pink white chocolate fountain; order; and then get the heck out.
Various unicorn figurines and toys line the yellow and purple sponge-painted counter. Glass jars, teeming with marshmallows, are on display. Trays of pink and white swirly doughnuts and heavily-frosted cupcakes, adorned with unicorn horns, scream: “LOOK AT ME!” One of the pink walls is decorated with tiny unicorn stuffed animals— they’re suction cupped to the plaster. Another is decorated with glittery wire birds, flowers, and butterflies. (I’d insert a joke about Michaels and glue guns, but that’s too easy. Instead, I’ll just tell you that it made me feel sad.)
I ordered a $14.99 “Monster Shake,” two $3.99 cupcakes (one chocolate, one vanilla), one $3.99 doughnut, and a $4.99 “Chocolate Kebab.” After tax, and tip, my total came to $40.82.
I sat outside at a picnic table—the one I mentioned earlier, which was covered in sticky cereal—and people-watched while I waited on the goods. There was a family celebrating a young girl’s birthday. She was dressed in a baby blue princess gown and was cute as a button. There was a mom, and, presumably a grandmother, with a small boy. He was drinking something that came garnished with cotton candy. There were three millennial-ish girls eating cake and drinking milkshakes. And another family, with small children, doing the same.
I got my order to-go, as there was no way I was going to be able to pack all of this in myself. Instead, I was going to be a nice lady and bring the sweets back to the office for my colleagues to try, too.
One by one, the items arrived. The kebab: three large marshmallows and three medium-sized strawberries, pierced by a wooden stick then coated in white chocolate (that’s been dyed pale pink), and dusted with peanuts and fuscia star sprinkles. Two cupcakes and a doughnut. And then, the milkshake. (It comes with a slice of rainbow cake and a red velvet unicorn cake pop.) I realize that getting the shake to-go messes with the presentation. But, I saw plenty of them that day, so I know what they look like. Tasting it was more important.
It was like slurping melted vanilla ice cream. I’ve had better milkshakes at Jack in the Box. The doughnut was dry. The cupcakes tasted like something you’d get at Kroger. The cake was like being punched in the mouth with a sponge that had been soaked in granulated sugar and food coloring. I didn’t get to try the red velvet cake pop, which was packaged in a clear wrapper, because Caitlin Clark mashed it up with her hands. (Something to do with her throughly enjoying the way it felt, squished, between her fingers. We threw it away after.)
I asked the woman working behind the counter about where they source their sweets. She told me they have an off-site bakery. I called yesterday and was told to call back. I called back and was told to call back again. They didn’t offer a manager’s number to dial, and they wouldn’t take mine. So I don’t have details to share with you. But at this point, it doesn’t matter if they bake these things in the fanciest oven in the universe; these desserts are bad.
They left a bad taste literally, but also figuratively, in my mouth.
Listen, I like mythological creatures, and glitter, and kitsch as much, if not more, than the average person. But this place feels tacky and cheap. It makes me sad that people, with children, would wait in line for this stuff and fork over all that money. It’s overrated (thanks to social media and media-hype) and expensive, for what you get.
You’d be better off picking up some sweets from your nearest bakery, decorating them with glitter and sprinkles and whatever else your heart desires, and creating the magic yourself.
Himalaya Culinary School will open next year.Courtesy of Kaiser Lashkari
Cinderella was overjoyed but quickly brought back down to reality when her stepmother forbade her from attending. Feeling heartbroken, Cinderella sought solace in the garden. Suddenly, a shimmering figure appeared before her. It was her fairy godmother, who had heard her desperate pleas. The fairy godmother waved her wand and transformed Cinderella's rags into a beautiful gown, complete with glass slippers. Cinderella could hardly believe her eyes. However, the fairy godmother warned Cinderella that the magic would only last until midnight. If she didn't leave the ball before the clock struck twelve, her beautiful gown would turn back into rags. Excitement filled Cinderella's heart as she entered the royal ball. She felt like a princess, dancing gracefully with the prince and capturing everyone's attention. But as the minutes ticked away, the clock reminded Cinderella of the looming deadline. Panic set in as she realized she had to leave the ballroom immediately. In her haste, Cinderella tripped, and one of her glass slippers fell off. She didn't have the time to retrieve it and ran barefoot towards the exit. As Cinderella reached the gardens, her gown began to turn back into rags, leaving her once again in tattered clothes. The magical evening was over, and she was left with a single glass slipper as a reminder of the enchantment that had briefly adorned her life. Days went by, and the prince could not forget the mysterious girl who had captivated his heart. He decided to find her, using the lost slipper as a clue. The prince traveled from house to house, asking every maiden to try on the slipper. Finally, the prince arrived at Cinderella's home, where the wicked stepsisters unsuccessfully tried to fit into the slipper. Cinderella watched from afar, knowing that it was her slipper. With trepidation, she approached the prince, who immediately recognized her. Their love story had begun that magical night at the ball, and despite the adversity, Cinderella was finally reunited with her prince. The midnight spell had brought them together, proving that dreams can come true. This timeless tale teaches us the power of hope and perseverance. Cinderella's belief in a better future and her courage to attend the ball led her to find love and happiness. The midnight spell symbolizes the fleeting nature of opportunity and the importance of seizing the moment. In the end, Cinderella's midnight spell serves as a reminder that even the most impossible dreams can come true with a little bit of magic and a lot of belief in oneself..
Reviews for "Exploring the Duality of Light and Darkness in Cinderella's Midnight Spell"
- John - 2 stars - I found "Midnight Spell on Cinderella" to be quite disappointing. The storyline felt cliché and predictable, following the usual trope of a poor girl finding her prince charming. The characters lacked depth and the dialogue was flat and uninteresting. Overall, I expected more originality and a stronger plot from this book.
- Sarah - 3 stars - Although "Midnight Spell on Cinderella" had some moments of charm, I couldn't help but feel underwhelmed by the overall execution. The pacing was slow, and the story failed to capture my attention. Additionally, the romantic relationship between the main characters felt forced and lacked chemistry. While it had its moments, the book failed to leave a lasting impression on me.
- Emily - 2 stars - I was hoping for a fresh and modern take on the classic Cinderella story, but unfortunately, "Midnight Spell on Cinderella" fell flat for me. The writing style was dull and lacked excitement, and the characters felt one-dimensional. The plot lacked depth and failed to offer any surprises or twists. Overall, I found the book to be unremarkable and forgettable.
- David - 2 stars - "Midnight Spell on Cinderella" was a disappointment for me. The plot felt overly simplistic and lacked originality. The characters were stereotypical and lacked development, making it hard to connect with them on any level. The writing style was mediocre at best, with overly descriptive passages that seemed unnecessary. Overall, I struggled to find any redeeming qualities in this book and would not recommend it.