test, freeze, greet

Such a nutty day! With mango and spices stuck to it as an added bonus.

 

 

 

The thing is, I had it all planned out: groceries would be delivered first thing, with the crow of the rooster. I need good foods for the weekend (a family member is staying with us!) and I need mango. And nuts. And sour cream for good measure. 

Immediately after breakfast I would bake. What’s the occasion? Well nothing really, though my visitor would probably appreciate a breakfast cake. Especially one with mangos. She loves mangos.

But the real reason behind the baking is that I’d agreed to be a recipe tester for someone who is putting together a cookbook. I thought it would be a no big deal: I’ve baked for nearly 60 years and am not too concerned about blowing a recipe. When he asked me to do the mango cake I texted back a hearty “sure!”

As I began, I saw that it was a bit of a bother. Do this do that, add this and beat it ever so long. Okay, at 11:30 I finally popped it in the oven and dashed out to run a few errands. The local nursery has reopened for the fall with lots of potted mums for sale while they last. Those would be nice for the porch! And, too, I had to make a run to Stonemans farm. For the corn. They are nearing the end of the season. I want to clean, steam, freeze and seal some ears for the kids for the winter. So,  lots of corn (just when I’m going to clean steam freeze and seal is a mystery but hey, I got the corn).

The cake had been in the oven for an hour and five mins when I pulled into the driveway. Good timing! Estimated baking time was between an hour and an hour and ten minutes!

I carry in the mums, I carry in bags of corn and I exhale. And then I inhale. With my nose. What’s burning??

My God, it’s the cake, isn’t it? I rush into the kitchen. Ed, who is on a work call in the other room shouts out — you should not leave a cake in the oven, gorgeous.

The batter overflowed (significantly!). The oven is covered with burning cake pieces. The house smells like it probably smells in California or Oregon right now. I’m now one hour and twenty minutes into the baking time and the toothpick test is totally failing me -- wet as can be! -- and I must leave to pick up Snowdrop at school. (I like to come early and be at the head of the line.)

Never agree to be a recipe tester!

There will be no mango cake for breakfast tomorrow.

 

In the end Ed agrees to mind the cake for another fifteen minutes or so. That would put it awfully close to tow hours in the oven. If a nine inch cake isn't done by then, you may as well give up.

 

I pick up a happy girl. 

 

 

It was a "great" day at school! She loved her friends! She loved lunch! She loved art and even the teacher isn't so mean anymore!  As she tells me -- "everyone has sort of settled down."

At the farmhouse it smells of cake. Everything is a mess. Wet towels (not sure what Ed was trying to accomplish with them), crumbs, charred bits of sticky cake. I look at my bundt pan and I tap the cake out and of course, chunks of it stick to the pan. A lovely sight.

 

 

 

But Snowdrop, ever the dreamer says -- I tasted a crumb! It's not bad, gaga. Can I have a bigger piece? And then -- Can I have another?

Sweet, sweet child.

We play, Ed messes with the phone line (which has been more or less dead for the past week). The house is a wreck. I can't believe I have a visitor coming in a few hours!

(As I return Snowdrop home, I encounter Sparrow packing his backpack for school tomorrow. He cannot wait!!)

And the day is not over. I have several dozen ears of corn to clean steam etc etc. And for reasons that I cannot remember, I scheduled my extra CSA box of veggies for this day. Two full boxes of corn, yes, more corn, lots of tomatoes, peppers. And wait, that's not the end: our farmers were selling tomato extras for canning and freezing. Twenty five pounds, to be processed now! I signed up for that too. What was I thinking?

Later, much later, some form of (partial) order is restored and at least a few veggies are properly in the freezer. And this is when my younger daughter comes in with her husband and with Primrose. They're here for a day and then going back or going off or going somewhere while Primrose stays with me for the next three or four days.

Welcome to the September farmhouse, brimming with cake crumbs and corn husks and tomatoes, waiting for their winter preservation. Welcome you Chicagoans! I'm so happy to see you!