Victory comes at a cost: Six eggs, two and one half pounds of powdered sugar, 24 ounces of cream cheese, two and a half sticks of butter, two bottles of red food coloring and some other stuff went into the making of a six-layer Red Velvet Cake. Not just any red velvet cake, but the one I've dreamed of making ever since I found out it was believed that my sister made the best red velvet cake. Neither Sis nor her daughter Nightingale were here to sample my cake. But Big Guy, Daisy and Birdie all stepped up to the plate. The panel of three surveyed the cake in its entirety. In the words of one, "It looks like it needs a haircut." Bet Sis never gets that dessert compliment. Already I knew I was heading toward victory. Delicately, yet firmly, I sawed through the cake with a sturdy serrated knife. Moments later, I slid out three superb red and white striped slices. Big Guy and Daisy scarfed their slices. Birdie ate hers a bit slower and left half a slice on her plate. I don't know how Birdie found the willpower to save some of hers for later. All three showered my cake baking skills with compliments. But I admit, I was too focused on the ultimate question to hear their praise. Cutting to the heart of the matter, I asked the panel of three, "Is my cake is better than Sis's or her cake is worse than mine?" I know a winner when I bake one. They do, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment