I had some fool idea that I would make a bundt cake for Duchess’s birthday party instead of a regular layer cake. (We had her party this evening as it’s the last day before the fast.) Have I ever made a bundt cake that turned out? No. I can’t ever get the blame thing to come out of the pan in one piece.
Well, this evening was no different. Flopsy was hanging over the counter watching my futile efforts. When I finally felt the weight shift, I moved the pan to find that a significant amount of cake was still up in the pan. I looked at it for a moment and Flopsy said, “I’m sure this has happened to lots of people before.” What a sweetheart.
Well, usually I can correct errors with
mortar frosting (which is why I always buy TWO cans) but I had some doubts. To get the correct shape I was going to wind up putting us all into a sugar-induced coma. I started putting frosting on gingerly. There was no way I wasn’t going to have some crumbs mixed in so I pretended not to see them. I figured I’d put flowers over the worst spots. (Boy, this cake is sounding better and better, isn’t it?) After I put the white layer on I set it aside so I could fix dinner. I was going to decorate it afterwards.
Father came in the kitchen and expressed some surprise that I’d made a bundt cake. I shared what had happened. I told him that the phrase that came to mind as I was icing was “Well, you win some and you lose some.” More appropriately would have been, “You win some and some they just pull the blanket over your head.” He said that my cake would have needed a closed casket. Then he proposed a bakery to that end. Here’s the imagined conversation:
Customer: “Is my cake ready?”
Baker: “Um. Maybe you should just come to the bakery.”
Customer: “What’s wrong? Is it ready?”
Baker: “Ma’am, I think you need to come down here. Is there anyone who can drive you?”
Customer: “No, and I can’t come right now. Tell me what’s wrong!”
Baker: “Well, we did all we could, frosting infusions, toothpick splints, even an entire layer transplant. But…”
Customer: “You mean…”
Baker: “I’m sorry. We lost the cake.”
Baker: “And you’re going to want a closed casket.”
(Pictures of the resurrected disaster to follow later.)