Sunday, June 3, 2012

Never Forget the Elephants


Way back in the dawn of time (aka, May 1981, I think but possibly 1980 or even 1979 -- my knowledge of my little sister's birthday is a little fuzzy, so sue me...) I was the cake decorator of the family. At the time I thought it was an honor, but in the ensuing years I've realized how much my mother hates being in the kitchen, so I'm thinking it was more of a Tom Sawyer-esque con job, but whatever. There are six kids in my family, and five of those have birthdays within a two month span, so I got a fair amount of practice. However, this was in the days before fondant and the internet. Also, it was in the days when the late Seventies were still holding sway, so style and taste were in short supply. Mostly I made a bunch of poorly-frosted, poorly-decorated cakes using every color of icing  available. I still claim this is far superior to serving store-bought cake though.

Anyhow, the year K-poo turned one I decided to make the following cake:


[Jojo the Enforcer tracked this down -- since my mom purged her recipe boxes a few years ago (as part of her twelve-step program of never voluntarily entering the kitchen again), I had to steal the image from this blog. Go show that blog some love.]

I was twelve (or possibly not, depending on which year it actually was) and I'd previously only made the cakes from boxed mixes. I hadn't done much baking at all at that point, whatever year it was. I missed a rather crucial ingredient and didn't have the experience to know that there was a problem until it was halfway through baking and looked like a toxic waste site with a layer of oil on the top and a bubbling dark layer of sludge underneath. Just so you know, flour is a really important ingredient when baking pretty much anything. See, I learned something. (Mostly what I learned is why I had always used boxed mixes up to that point.)

The second (post-tantrum) try went better, and here is the final product:



 This picture is full of win on so many levels it's almost unbearable. K-poo in a dirndl-like dress! Wood paneling! That high-chair tray! The cake that looks exactly (cough, cough) like the picture in the recipe! I'm pretty sure those are my arms and I'm wearing a velour shirt. (I had at least three of them...)

Good times, good times...



7 comments:

jeff said...

Awesome. The only thing I think I remember is the oily sans-flour cake pan. I didn't realize what a home-ec wonder you were.

What's in the hope chest?

Theresa B (of Nebulopathy) said...

I can't believe you remember anything at all from before you were twenty.

The mythical hope chest is like the equally mythical Pandora's box. You can't open it without letting all sorts of disasters loose in the world. I never took the chance.

jeff said...

are there any picture of the meat loaf on a stick?

johanna said...

Oooh, nice documentation. I'll send you a pic of my attempt.

I'm glad you were a master in the kitchen. Otherwise you might not have made K-Poo and me brownies for breakfast. On the down side, your pretzels for German class probably made me look bad...

Theresa B (of Nebulopathy) said...

Jeff, as many jokes as there have been about that meal, it was meatloaf wrapped in bacon. You guys have no cause for complaint.

Theresa B (of Nebulopathy) said...

Um, Johanna, you know what really made you look bad in German class? (Hint: it wasn't your baking...)

johanna said...

Well, yeah, if you're hinting at the lack of knowledge transfer then you've got a point. But enough about me. Let's get back to picking on Jeff. :)