Epic Baking or Cooking Fail

#Daily Post 2063

I’ve always been drawn to a chef’s world. My Mom will tell you that she’d hear laughter coming from the tv room and when she popped in to see what I was watching she’d see me sitting with a spiral notebook and pencil while watching “The Galloping Gourmet”. So began my love for the culinary world. 

I thought my mom was a master chef. I loved her cooking and could she throw a mean dinner party. Holidays were something out of the pages of Bon Appetit magazine. Ironically we were never allowed in the kitchen. I suspect Mom was afraid of the mess. Perhaps the lack of kitchen presence added to my love of wanting to create beautiful dishes. 

During the first few years we were married, my friend Di and I signed up for cooking classes through our school district’s adult education program. Di’s husband Mike was in grad school and my husband worked nights so there was lots of free time. 

We had a blast with anything from basic cooking 101 creations which was literally how to dice and chop or boiling water. Extremely elementary but I relished in each lesson. The courses expanded and after year two we were up to creating and serving quite exquisite Northern Italian dishes. We were on fire! 

One of our instructors told us about a cake decorating course which would be offered in one of the larger stores at our local mall. Two new chefs were eager to try anything so we plunked down the $35 registration fee and signed up. Each week we learned the art of making the perfect frosting and icing a cake. If you want glass like frosting on a cake – I’m your girl. I lived to ice a cake. I still have the motorized cake wheel used to spin my masterpieces.  

Each week the instructor would end class with a preview of what our final project would include. The final project? A wedding cake. I was in heaven. We were going to actually make a wedding cake. The thing is – you give me a project and I’m going full out for this thing. If I love the topic – there’s no stopping me. 

I couldn’t think about anything other than the final project. I worked all week and as I was on lunch or after dinner at home I’d be sketching cake ideas in my spiral notebook. 

We finally received our final project assignment booklet complete with a list of ingredients, recipes, list of supplies, and photos for inspiration. Who needed pictures? I had my own ideas ready to be copyrighted and shared with the world right in my single subject spiral notebook. 

I took the day off of work so that I could bake the actual cakes. We had to bake 3 cakes in tiered pans. I was up early and started the process leaving lots of prep time. My KitchenAid mixer was whirring and humming. I’d mix and pour into the buttered and floured pan. Around 11 am I realized something was wrong. Very wrong. I had used up the three boxes of cake mix and the largest bottom layer pan was not even filled. My husband ran down to the supermarket and picked up another few boxes of cake mix. 

Box six. That’s when the panic attack came. Back to the supermarket. The kitchen cabinets were filled with cake mix dust and small splatters from a mixer that was starting to organize a small union strike. I called Diana. She was reading a book and waiting for her cakes to cool. She said Ka – you aren’t done? I said done? I’m on box 13 and these things aren’t even in the oven. That’s when we realized my mistake. 

In my rush to start the project I failed to read the supply list in its entirety. We were to purchase a MINI Tiered Pan Set. Welllll then. This Martha Stewart wannabe bypassed – ok ignored – the word MINI. Yes yes. I purchased the LARGE pan set. 

The top tier of the cake was supposed to be a petite cake that just sat ever so elegantly on top of the bottom and middle tier. Symmetrically it would be the perfect topper. Not mine. My cake rose so much in the pan that it looked like Abraham Lincoln’s black hat atop this bakery monstrosity. If we were baking for let’s say a Gettysburg Address soire then maybe I could have pulled it off. Alas, I boxed up my freakish looking boxes of cakes and headed to the mall. 

The looks and stares that came my way as I set up my work station were far from kind. I might say they stuck with me much the same way trauma from early Musical Chairs  games has followed me through life. 

In the end, my biggest creation turned out to be my biggest fail. This remained tucked away in a bakery box wrapped in red string somewhere in the back of my mind. It wasn’t until the daily prompt popped up asking us to regale our biggest flop. 

Happy to say that I still love to cook and create but I gave up on baking that day. Perhaps reading comprehension contributed to my baking extinction. That is ok with me. Thanks for the chance to share this little part of Kiki’s world with laughter!