The end of February and beginning of March finds me and my family in the middle of a kind of birthday extravaganza with four family birthdays in eight short days. You could say that I spend quite a bit of time baking these days. Which is okay. Because I love to cook. And bake. I guess you could say I am a little pathological about feeding people. I have honestly thought that there isn't anything that can't be made better with good food. (Please no comments about using food to solve problems. I own that crazy.) And I've been told that I am a pretty good cook. But, for the life of me, I haven't been able to pull off the trifecta of baking - the cake that is moist, tasty, and symmetrically beautiful. Moist and tasty I can do in my sleep. It's the beautiful part that snatches victory from me every time. And, let's face it, if it isn't pretty, you don't want to take it to the party. Nobody wants to show up with the ugly dessert. It got so bad that I even stooped to letting my children help decorate Daddy's birthday cake just so I wouldn't have to own the ugly alone. (Very sad, but true.)
I just couldn't understand it. I had every pan and tool necessary to produce cake perfection. Even a tastefully elegant glass cake stand given to us one Christmas by dear family friends. You know the one - the perfect blend of understated elegance and out-right class. Just decorative enough to use at the most special of events but not out of place at the end of a casual family barbeque. I used it every time I baked a cake.
There I was, an hour before serving my husband's birthday cake, frantically icing even though the cake didn't have enough time to properly cool. And, as I turned the cake stand to evenly smooth icing, I noticed that the cake seemed to dip and rise with the motion of the stand. Oh no! I knew it needed more time to cool! It had cracked and was about to fall apart on the stand . . . but I couldn't find the crack. Then I got down on eye-level with the cake and minutely studied every inch, turning the cake stand to view all sides. Noticing something I'd never seen before.
The cake stand was uneven! All this time cake perfection had been within my grasp but for a defect at the glass cake stand factory. I laughed out loud for several minutes, howling at the irony. I'd been so concerned with attending to all the sometimes-tricky minutiae of baking, that I'd missed the (now that I saw it) very obvious tilt to the cake stand. Teaching me a very important lesson that applies to all kinds of life situations: sometimes it's not about you.
So, as you go through your life, and a situation arises that induces confusion and stress, remember my cake stand. And that it might not be about you!
Learning to love cupcakes,
Amy
I just couldn't understand it. I had every pan and tool necessary to produce cake perfection. Even a tastefully elegant glass cake stand given to us one Christmas by dear family friends. You know the one - the perfect blend of understated elegance and out-right class. Just decorative enough to use at the most special of events but not out of place at the end of a casual family barbeque. I used it every time I baked a cake.
There I was, an hour before serving my husband's birthday cake, frantically icing even though the cake didn't have enough time to properly cool. And, as I turned the cake stand to evenly smooth icing, I noticed that the cake seemed to dip and rise with the motion of the stand. Oh no! I knew it needed more time to cool! It had cracked and was about to fall apart on the stand . . . but I couldn't find the crack. Then I got down on eye-level with the cake and minutely studied every inch, turning the cake stand to view all sides. Noticing something I'd never seen before.
The cake stand was uneven! All this time cake perfection had been within my grasp but for a defect at the glass cake stand factory. I laughed out loud for several minutes, howling at the irony. I'd been so concerned with attending to all the sometimes-tricky minutiae of baking, that I'd missed the (now that I saw it) very obvious tilt to the cake stand. Teaching me a very important lesson that applies to all kinds of life situations: sometimes it's not about you.
So, as you go through your life, and a situation arises that induces confusion and stress, remember my cake stand. And that it might not be about you!
Learning to love cupcakes,
Amy
Wise, wise council! And very attractively and tastefully told! I'll be right over. I'll bring my own fork!
ReplyDeleteCome on over Diane! Happy to have you. Chocolate cake is waiting :).
Delete