Train Wreck – aka – Dud of an Aunt Grace’s Cake – Photo: L. Weikel

Frustration

I baked a cake today and I’m brimming with frustration. For the life of me, I don’t know why it turned into this monstrosity resembling a chocolate milk-colored lava flow slowly inundating a toppled pile of walnuts.

I know why it looks like a toppled pile of walnuts, though. Because each layer of the cake resisted removal from its pan, that’s why. One layer left a strip of itself along the edge in the pan. I retrieved it. But did it want to rehabilitate itself back into the society of the rest of the cake? No, it did not.

Another layer left a chunk of its very center in the pan. It was fully cooked. Don’t fall for that play for sympathy. You know: “Oh, I wasn’t ready to come out of the oven yet! It wasn’t time for my debut and she forced me on stage without reading me my lines!”

No. That’s baloney. It was time.

And then there was the third layer. Or I should say the first layer, for it was the one I placed at the bottom, giving it the responsibility of being the foundation upon which the integrity of the entire confection rested. Well, that trust was certainly misplaced. While it could be noted that this particular layer perhaps did not leave as much of itself in the pan initially, it more than failed to meet its pathetic attempt at mediocrity by just leaning over and succumbing to the weight of its self-loathing.

Then Came the Icing

Was it something in the air? Was it a sign from above that it’s time to dramatically cut back on the sugar intake, Lisa?

I don’t know what it was, but to add insult to injury, the icing was simply a mess. It never got firm. It’s not firm now and it’s been in the refrigerator since late this afternoon. And while the icing tastes ok…it is not the near mouth-gasm I know this recipe is capable of creating.

Something’s off about it and – just as I have no clue what the hell happened to the cake, I am equally flummoxed by the implosion of the icing.

With respect to integrity of the ingredients, there is the possibility that this effort went to hell in a hand-basket because I allowed the butter, which I’d placed on top of the stove to soften – just two simple sticks of butter still wrapped in their paper cloaks, hanging out on the oven while it warmed up – to sort of melt.

In my defense, I got sidetracked by a visitor – and forgot what I was doing, as we chatted outside in the sunshine while maintaining appropriate social distancing. Nevertheless, Karl made a valiant attempt to salvage the effort by sort of scooping them up onto a plate. They struggled to maintain their structural integrity, but only superficially succeeded. I do think the partial melting may have contributed to the creation of lava.

Other Variables

Beyond these slight snafus, other variables did come into play. I attempted to use my mother-in-law’s vintage standing mixer from the ‘50s. Mind you, I’ve never used one of these ever in my life – always having been a hand-held mixer girl up to this point.

Well, because I burned out my hand-held over Christmas and had to buy a crappy 3 speed whose fastest speed barely musters enough power to beat an egg, I thought I’d give the standing mixer a try. The indicator on the side of the contraption hinted at lightning speeds achievable. I dreamed of whipping all the ingredients into a quivering frenzy.

Yeah, well, I guess it worked. Technically at least, I guess it did what stand-ups do? But I did not have the control I craved (and have always wielded) while using a hand-held. Call me crazy, but it felt like a variable that may have influenced the final outcome. It just didn’t feel…right.

Another factor – at least in the failed creation of the layers of walnut torte – was a potential aging or impotence factor in the baking powder I used. Frankly, I sense that blaming the baking powder is less than optimum and definitely doubtful – although my recent attempt to make Carol’s Chocolate Cake resulted in a density to the cake that also was unnerving. Where oh where was the light and airy fluffiness of my cakes? Am I losing my touch?

A Bummer

I just don’t know. But having one’s ‘face fixed’ for exquisite confections only to have them turn out not only to look like natural disasters but also taste just ‘OK’ – when they should, by all rights, send one’s mouth and senses into ecstatic overload – is, in a word, inauspicious – especially if considered to be a harbinger of the year to come. In another word:  a BUMMER.

Finally, as the accompanying photo shows, I am capable of baking this cake like a champ. Not this year, though. Nope. <<sigh>>  Maybe next time.

(T-242)