Oh, there were expletives

There are lots of kitchen gadgets we have that are fun, but don't get used very often. Chocolate fountain, fondue set, cherry pitter, melon baller, s'mores roaster. Of course, the once a year when I need to pit a huge batch of cherries or want to dip some stuff in chocolate, they come in handy, but we tend to accumulate a lot of tools of the trade that sit unused a majority of the time. That being the case, I am sometimes reluctant to buy new gear in the fear it will only add to the clutter without providing sufficient services to justify their existence.

However, after about the tenth time I had to transport/store a cake and wishing I owned a cake carrier, I finally caved and bought one. It was the last one Bed Bath and Beyond had in stock and I was totally thrilled. I'd been planning on an encore presentation of Deb's Expletive-Free Cake for Passover and needed a way to bring the cake over to my parents'. Now I had one and we were off to good start.

Unfortunately a good start is as far as I got. I know I managed to make the cake last year with minimal fuss, but this year I got snagged every step of the way. First, the recipe called for Dutch-processed cocoa, which I had a hard time finding. A guy at Whole Foods assured me their bulk cocoa was the right stuff, but I was nervous about throwing off the chemistry of the delicate cake and worried the whole time I didn't have the right stuff.

I had finished the batter--which is a giant mess of whipped egg whites and chocolate and creamed yolks--before looking over the ingredient list again and wondering where those 4 tablespoons of water were supposed to come in. OH, at the beginning, you say? Could I add water to a pile of beaten egg whites? Guess I would have to! Not too much trouble. But the cake is four layers and I only have the two pans, so a double batch would be in order. As the first layers were in the kitchen, I looked over the ingredient list again and saw this: salt. Shit! Well, if water can go into batter after the fact, the salt was going to have to, too. Into half the cake, anyway.

Then my eye caught the stupid cocoa sitting on the counter. Shit again! When was the cocoa supposed to go in? A quick scan of the recipe told me...it didn't! I was only used as a dusting between layers. Grumble grumble. The salt-less layers looked okay, if a little flat. Time to make the whipped cream filling. Can't screw that up, right? Turns out it's as easy as using the wrong measuring cup! Who likes extra sweet whipped cream!

Anyway, the whole thing eventually came together, but not after ruining the expletive-free part of the recipe. People even ate it and liked it! J wanted to bring the leftovers home to continue eating it! Bringing leftovers home would be a cinch, because hello! Cake carrier.

We made it about two blocks in the car before we heard a mysterious slide, thump, and crash. I stopped the car.

Me: What was that?
J: Did the cake make it into the back seat?

Turns out J had temporarily put the cake on the car's roof while loading other stuff and then forgotten about it. We drove back to assess the damage. The poor cake never had a fighting chance. It ended its days spread all over Narcissus Way. "How's the carrier?" I asked anxiously. J just shook his head. A total loss.

The story made my mom laugh enough to replace the carrier. I certainly learned to read through a recipe more than once before starting it. And J chalks the splattered cake up to experience. Now he'll know to be extra careful with the baby car seat.