Skipping both my classes this afternoon left me with plenty of time to get bored. Often this is not a good thing. Often this is quite a messy thing. Often this leaves me with a smoky kitchen to air out quickly before the roommates get home.
First I listened to some podcasts and daydreamed about moving to Mozambique. Then I worked on a collage/painting I’ve been trying to finish for a while (six months). I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with a technique of dipping paper into melted wax so it became see-through and then gluing it to the canvas. This left quite a bit of wax on the counter, stovetop, and on my roommate’s cheese grater. No worries, mate, I thought to myself in an Australian accent, as I often do when I’m trying to keep it cool and not panic.
Then I got bored again, so I dug through the cupboard and found a box of Angel food cake mix. I love to bake and I like to surprise people, so this seemed the perfect opportunity to wow my roomies with my mad kitchen skills.
I dumped the mix and water in a mixing bowl and remembered that we do not own a mixer. G’day. No worries, mate, no worries. Just throw some shrimp on the barbie. So I mixed it by hand and it began to foam up beautifully. Then I remembered something crucial that my high school home-ec teacher Mrs. Northcutt told our Food and Nutrition class when we were on the cake chapter: Angel food cakes are totally different from any other cakes. They require patience, a low altitude, and a bundt pan.
Shoot, I thought as I realized that I do not have items 1 and 3. The accent kicked in again. Good onya, mate. Looks like you’re up a gum tree now. It’s gonna take a lot of yakka to clear up this mess. I silenced the inner Aussie and improvised by using two shallow cake pans with small glass bowls of water in the middle of each. All went well for the first ten minutes the cakes were in the oven. Then the sizzling and smoking began. Nothing dashes one’s hopes as quickly as the sight of gloppy gooey cake batter spilling overflowing onto the floor of the oven. I’ll spare you the rest of the details. I’m going for a Kip now. Hoo-roo.