Gigglegig Story of the Week:
The Food Critics
I've never claimed to be a great chef or, for that matter, even a good cook. I'm far more comfortable using the microwave than the oven and am continually perplexed by certain kitchen utensils my husband insists on purchasing. That said, my family hasn't yet starved and, to the best of my knowledge, my cooking has never sent anyone running to the emergency room. So, in what can only be attributed to a moment of summer madness, I decided to bake a cake for a potluck. I mixed and baked the cake and was feeling pretty proud of my efforts until I removed the pan from the oven. It was more brown than golden in places and lifted a little to one side. I let it cool and then frosted the cake with chocolate frosting, making sure that extra frosting was piled onto the low side. When I was done the cake looked edible, if slightly boring. My efforts were in vain, however, because we decided to not attend the potluck. I gave my daughter a piece of the dessert. She licked off the frosting and told me she was done. I called the whole thing a learning experience and chunked the cake, pan and all, into the garbage. The next morning my husband came in from outside and told me bears had gotten into the garbage. This is a common problem for those of us who live in Alaska. Summertime brings tourists and bears. They (the bears, not the tourists) ransack garbage cans looking for an easy meal. But I digress... When my husband told me about our freshly littered sidewalk I apologized and said that it must have been the cake that attracted the bears.. My husband (to his everlasting credit) had enough self preservation to laugh only slightly and tell me the cake was the only thing not touched by the bears. Now I'm perfectly willing to concede that my neighbors probably have better garbage. I'm even willing to give the bears the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they were full of salmon or hankering for something savory not sweet. Etiquette, however, dictates that they should have at least tried the dessert. It's one thing to have a cake spurned by a daughter, but to have gourmet bruins turn up their noses is a little much. What really hurts, however, is that the bears must have spread the word about my cooking. We haven't been bothered with garbage bears again.