As some of you may know I don’t like to bake. I may have said in the past that I’m not good at baking. The truth is I find it too methodical and a bit boring. The goose, however, loves to bake. It’s a creative outlet for her. She decided she was going to make her own birthday cake this year. It’s not a first, but she was doing it solo, which was.
She emailed me the recipes and I bought her supplies. It was to be a peach upside down cake wrapped in fondant topped with hand made fondant flowers.
Probably mostly because she is my kid, things don’t ever pan out as we plan. This always comes as a shocking surprise. For what we lack in actual talent, we are never short on confidence.
For those other non-bakers, the way that you make fondant is to melt marshmallows and add powdered sugar until it has a dough like consistency. When I got home there was a white cloud in the kitchen. She was happily making beautiful flowers. I was taking stock of the mess. As quick comment about making sure she saw the other side of the island when she was cleaning up. And I made to take my leave.
“When you pull the tooth pick from the cake, are you looking for batter to stick or not stick?” I looked in the oven. I looked at her. “Yeah, I had to triple the recipe to make it fit”. Yep, my kid. Instead of finding a baking dish to fit her cake she made her cake fit the dish. We like the hard way out of things.
“Man that looks beautiful. It’s probably going to be more like a cobbler than a cake. I bet it’s going to be really yummy.” Pause pause choosing words carefully so as not to poop on the bakery’s parade. “Next time you may want to go with a shallow long pan.”
“Oh, yeah. That probably is a good idea.” She said.
I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Ok, great work. Carry on.”
I shuffle into the kitchen this morning to find it in pretty much the same condition as last night. But it’s her birthday. So I paste a smile on my face. As I am moving about it is obvious that she “tried” to clean up. I see a sponge streak down the refrigerator door. The island looks clean but feels….crunchy. Two steps in and my moccasin starts making the clicking sound of a tap shoe. She enters the room, takes one look at my pinched face that means to be a smile, and asks what’s wrong. “Nothing love, I’m just trying to figure out how to not murder you on your birthday.”
“I tried.”
“Yeah, you made a good show of trying. But when I tried to lift the napkin holder off the island it was glued down.” I increased the depth of my smile. Which with my itty bitty eyes made it difficult to see.
“So what did we learn today.”
This was her list:
A clean sponge works better than a dirty one.
Fondant is not pretty on the underside of a moccasin.
When left in the sink, batter turn to cement.
Use a long pan.
NEVER trust Daddy when he says he’ll take care of it.
Yes,she did realize she threw stubby hubs hunk under the bus. We had a good long laugh about that.
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