My mom spent the weekend in St. Augustine with her boyfriend. His two cats are lovely little things~
So I was left to guard our estate (mobile home) with my third oldest brother, and my brother with his fiancee (who shall be named Corduroy for this post, and probably more) stayed with us for the weekend.
I had no idea at the time this was decided that I would be roped into working on a cake for Corduroy's grandfather, whose birthday would turn out to be, well, tomorrow.
Now, that doesn't seem so hard. Make a cake before the next day? Easy.
Except we didn't start on the making of said cake until about 9:30 at night. Not so easy.
I'm all for helping people in situations, and making a cake didn't seem to be all that complicated. It was a diabetic cake, which made things a bit more difficult, but it still didn't seem like something we hadn't already had to do before.
Which, coincidentally, we've done this same thing many times. Both me and Corduroy, staying up until the late hours, making cakes that have to be finished and frosted and decorated by the next day.
But this cake, oh this cake, became the absolute bane of my existence. I already dislike carrot cake, on account of, well, I'm allergic to carrots. But now I detest carrot cake.
So many things went wrong.
And here I list them:
- Flour, carrot shreds, egg, vanilla, and various other ingredients ended up practically coating the floor by the end of this seemingly small task
- The cake is diabetic, so it wouldn't rise like a normal cake.
- It wouldn't rise.
- The damn cake WOULDN'T RISE.
We also had to make cream cheese frosting, which, unfortunately, was far too complicated for what it was.
Aa the recipe only contained enough ingredients for the frosting as would cover, maybe one single cupcake.
It was almost 3 am. We thought we were done.
We cleaned up the counters, floor, put the cake on the stove to cool overnight, and put all the dishes in the sink so we could wash them the next day.
Oh, well we were mistaken to think everything would turn out great.
I decided to do the dishes, and made myself breakfast for once, and did the laundry. All was peaceful
Or so I thought.
Upon removal of the cake from the pan, we realized something.
You guessed it.
THAT CURSED CAKE DIDN'T RISE.
And now, we didn't even have enough cake to call it a cake. It looked more like a brownie.
And we screamed.
And we started making more cake.
And we had to reuse the dishes I had just washed.
When 2:00 pm rolled around, the cake had just finished baking and now we just had to wait for it to cool.
Which would have been fine, if they just wanted an unfrosted cake.
So we then had to clear out space in the fridge for it, removing food and condiments, one bowl of fruit slices having turned completely moldy and spoiled in the span of a few days.
So that was done.
It cooled by about 3:00. We were almost in the clear.
Until my tired-from-work oldest brother was given the task of flipping the cake out of the tray, and, stupidly, he flipped it.
Onto the counter.
Breaks in half.
Luckily, I swooped in and saved the day before Corduroy did something she may regret.
We got the cake looking like someone hadn't just destroyed it.
And it got decorated.
And they were on their way to the birthday party.
After all that cake nonsense, I had more chores to do.
By the time my mom got home on Sunday, I was immensely tired from the weekend and my third oldest brother had done absolutely nothing. Needless to say I was slightly pissed.
But no worries, he got plenty of grief from my mom, oldest brother, and Corduroy, so that was plenty for me.
And my mom bought one of my favorite foods. Salmon fillets stuffed with crab and seafood from Sam's Club.
And today we get to eat a corned beef brisket. Good god yes.
Happy Saint Patrick's Day everyone. I'll be off spending the last few hours of school doing pointless lessons of things I already know.