Charlotte turned six yesterday.
I planned a beautiful cake. Moist chocolate layered cake, raspberry filling, and vanilla frosting was the plan. It would be perfect.I baked the cake and left it in the pans and headed to the park to meet friends, per Charlotte’s request. I know this is a bad plan but… I did it anyway.
When I went to remove the cake hours later to stack and fill and frost, the top layer stuck in the pan. When it broke free, it was in about six pieces.
I cringed and set about frosting it back together. I completed my task and headed to the sink with my pans.
The kids’collective gasp had me looking back.
I lose. I’ve decided a volcano theme would have been fitting.
We were still giggling when Sterling licked the mixer beater and exclaimed, “That tastes HORRIBLE!”
Seriously? I rather pride myself on being a fairly good cook. Cakes are clearly not my specialty, but they are from scratch and taste good, anyway.
“It tastes like plastic!”
Eden dryly commented without looking up from her dishwashing task at the sink, clearly having a bit of personal experience, “You ate Crisco from the top of the beater.”
Whew. Crisis averted. The cake was delicious. Disastrously ugly and nearly on the floor, but delicious.
Crisco, on the other hand, is nasty.