Tuesday, 19 July 2011

The Day of Disaster.

Just 3 days after the last attempt at a pretty cake was my niece's Birthday.  After the puce basketweave roses fiasco I invested some time on Youtube.  Youtube is great if you ever want to know anything about everything.  It's not so great if you're not up with the caking lingo and it takes 3 hours to find what you need. 

Following is the transcript from my email to my sister.  Again language edits and commentary are in red (in case you're not sure what red looks like).

(No Subject)

Amy Marie,

Never in my life - even when I made Ella a beautiful and expensive white chocolate and raspberry cake for her birthday, only to realise 45mins later it had been sitting cold in a broken oven - has a cake made me want to cry...until now.

It started when I looked across at the stove when I was doing the dishes with my 'helpers': "What is that odd yellow puddle on th.. OH MY GOD! Fudge! Fudge, fudge, fudge! Shoot!"  (See: 1 - Tupperware) Clint had cooked pasta on the front element and failed to remove from the back one my much loved, often used and painfully expensive Tupperware cake container.  Yes Tupperware, REAL Tupperware, the kind that cost most of an average day's wage.  Clint was super apologetic: "but there's no hole in it, it's fine".  Ha!  I've already put out an emergency call to my network of school mums,  I'll have a new one by the end of the week.  I never did end up replacing that cake keeper, so sad. 

1 - Tupperware

Mmm, that cake smells good, must be nearly ready... Of course Eli starts crying and I am feeding him as the timer goes off.

Clint - I'll check it
Me - Thanks
C - It's ready
M - Does it spring back when you touch the top?
C - What?
M - Does it spring back when you touch the top?
C - What do you mean?
M - (fighting not to roll my eyes) Don't worry, can you please get a small silver skewer and poke it into the centre. Tell me if there's any batter left on it.
C - What do you mean "batter"!? (obviously panicking, has she made a pancake?)
M - That's what the cake mix is called.
C - (fighting not to roll his eyes) It's almost clean.
M - Leave it in for another 5 minutes and check again.

5 minutes later...

C - It's ready.
M - Is the skewer clean?
C - ...(ominous pause) yes.
M - Clean, clean?
C - (offended) YES!
M - Does it spring back when you touch the top?
C - What?
M - *sigh* nothing.  If you're sure it's ready can you please take it out?  Thanks for all your help, you're such a sweetheart.

Eli settles and I go to look at the cake.  What is that?  A streaky skewer, fudge, where's the cake?  There's my cake tin, it has something brown in it, but there is no way that's my cake.  Looking around for my real cake... nothing.  Shoot that's my cake.  See: Cake; it is a visual representation of the abomination, I didn't take a picture as I was too upset.

I ice the cake with chocolate buttercream, using melted chocolate instead of cocoa (I should really check my ingredients levels before I start baking).  Clint redeems himself slightly by suggesting I use a credit card to smooth the sides. (This was before I actually got around to buying tools.)  I tell him that someone who is so good at screeding should offer to ice the fudging cake for me (because I'm still passed).  See: 2 - Almost a square, and 3 - Square (still actually almost a square). 
                                                                  2 - Almost a square

3 - Square (still actually almost a square)

After a day of visiting every department store, kitchen shop and supermarket looking for a petal piping tip I concede defeat and use 'basket weave' (really, WTF?) again.

Apart from my abysmal writing skills I only had one mishap; see: 4 - Hey, that one's really pretty. Oh...

4 - Hey that one's really pretty. Oh...

But I managed to fix it; see: 5 - Big bunch of roses to cover the upside-down one.

5 - Big bunch of roses to cover the upside-down one.

By the time July rolls around I'll be awesome; see - rest of photos (note lack of puce - lesson learned)...

6 - Finished cake.

This email exchange, whilst it gave my sister a giggle and made me feel better, got me in the most trouble I've ever been in with Clint.  More trouble than he got into for going through my emails to find and read this.  He felt unfairly represented and wrote his own scathing retort to Amy (which I can't show, because I don't go through other people's emails for fun) complete with eye-rolling and dramatic sighing. 

So, yay.  My cakes are looking better and I no longer feel the overwhelming urge to save to buy my sister a wedding cake.  Everything will work out fine, or will it?  Next installment "The Day I Tried To Get Too Clever" coming soon...

1 comment:

  1. i am loving this cake journey. i love the clint-cake conversation, plus clint reading your emails, and you not condescending to doing the same. keep writing, you're a natural.