The Christening Cake Catastrophe
A cautionary tale from the same kitchen, where ovens
betray and meatballs take off!
It was a day of celebration: my firstborn – my son’s
christening! The church ceremony was beautiful, the baby was angelic, and I had
orchestrated a post-service gathering at our apartment with family and close
friends. Everything was prepped with care the day before, down to the homemade
sheet cake I’d labored over -- perfectly frosted, delicately piped, and adorned
with flowers and writing that screamed “first-time mom with something to prove!”
There was just one problem: I had two cats. And if you’ve
ever lived with a cat or even met a cat, you know they have a sixth sense for
locating the most sacred surface in the house and planting their paws directly
on it…and sometimes their entire bodies! With the fridge packed full of food trays, I
made a snap decision—into the oven the cake goes! Safe from feline
footprints – it’s Genius!
Fast-forward to post-ceremony bliss. I changed into comfy
clothes, laid the baby down for a nap, and handed my Mom and Aunt Mary a glass
of vino! I began prepping for the rest of the guest’s arrival. Chips in bowls,
dip stirred, trays out of the fridge to get a bit room temp to help reheat
faster. Everything was moving along, when my aunt—bless her observant
soul—said, “Ooohh, Michele that cake smells so good!”
I froze. Rut-Roh, Scooby-Doo! I preheated the oven!
The cake. Was. Still. In. The. Oven.
The once-pristine frosting had liquefied into a pastel
puddle. The writing- Gone. The flowers? A memory. It was a melted monument to
my own multitasking madness and two cats that I tried to ward off of catastrophe.
What was meant to be an interception and touchdown turned into a fumble while chasing
a cat across the 40-yard line. My heart sank!
My Mom and Aunt felt terrible—briefly. I caught them snickering
when my back was turned, right as I stomped my feet and yelled, “Damn, Damn,
Damn!” like a sitcom character having a meltdown in real time.
Cue the emergency response team: my Mom and Aunt quickly came into play! Mom sprinted down the block to her house (thankfully just around the corner) and returned with icing from her pantry. I had cake writing left in the tube, and together we scraped off the damage, patched it up, and re-frosted the cake into something decent to serve. It wasn’t the masterpiece I’d started with, but it was a testament to teamwork, quick thinking, and maternal pantry preparedness. And just when I thought I’d learned my lesson about oven-related disasters from that pan of baked Ziti Catapulting out of my oven!
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The
Catastrophe Cake Rating™ |
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A tribute
to multitasking meltdowns, feline sabotage, and frosting redemption. |
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