Peace of Cake

I have contended with a succession of panic in the living room, a series of firsts in the kitchen, and a streak of annoyances in our crazy a$$ ghetto fabulous building. This week has not been a cakewalk, and I could give a European hedgehog a run for his money hibernating, but between my precocious four year old, Lanes, and my nutty phone wielding sister, I doubt that I will ever sleep again. There is no rest for the wicked(ly adorable).

So the week began well. On Monday night I had my cake decorating class. My long suffering, short winded spouse, P,  rushed home to jet propel me to my class and take over Lanes.  Both of them were under the impression that I was going to come home with a scrumptious cake. In reality, what they got was a beautifully decorated chunk of styrofoam, and two delicious slices of cake the instructor had made for the class.

I had a glorious time pummeling, rolling and coloring fondant to my cake decorating show loving heart’s content. The instructor was extremely well prepared and amiable and the folks in the course were easy going and it was the first time I was sad that time was up in a class. I was happy to report this to Lanes, who instructed me firmly but lovingly to try to ‘make some friends’. I won’t even try to psychoanalyze that.

My side and back pain returned due to all the pounding and squeezing that took place with the fondant. I found that I really enjoyed decorating with it, but sadly, it’s a pastime I can’t afford to pick up. Seems the only thing I’m fit for rolling out is sarcastic comments.

I never got to rest my achy back as Lanes had snow days on Wednesday and Friday. We didn’t get the worst of the winter weather, unlike my sister in Seattle who was snowed in all week.  However, Lanes’ school is up on the mountain and the approach to it was treacherous in the morning hours, and I didn’t feel like sliding down all the way home, so she had the pleasure of spending her days with me.

Oh boy, were those days challenging! She would start up ok, but as the sun set, she would scowl and purposefully try to get herself in trouble. Then she would come up with strange ailments and pretend she needed to upchuck all over the living room carpet--my good one, not the apartment's crappy one that came with a mystery purple stain.  I was wondering why she was saving all the drama for her mamma.

I was at wits’ end and was concerned that my sweet little pudding was turning into a werewolf or something.  I sat her down on my lap and told her to use her words and tell me what’s gotten into her. Apparently, it was all about her beloved Daddy. So what else is new? Her world begins and ends with him.

He has been working late every night and Lanes has not taken kindly to it. After she witnessed her BFF’s father’s car and her teacher’s van get stuck in ice, she started panicking thinking the bus would get stuck and Daddy won’t be able to come home. As such, she was really acting up thinking if she is naughty Daddy will come to tell her off or if she is sick, Daddy will come to look after her. Instead all she was left with was me, screeching and hollering like a prize winning chimpanzee.

When she finally told me her concerns, I felt rather sorry for her and told her that we can call Daddy on the phone (and P was threatened fiercely to pick up his phone or else!) so that she knows he is safe and that she can stay up every night to see that he is ok. I also told her that I’m always with her and she need not fear anything when I'm around.  Apparently, Mamma is not a good consolation prize.

Although I was not delighted that I held as much appeal as the cheese from last year’s Christmas party, I was glad that Lanes felt secure again and learnt the importance of voicing her concerns. She has returned to her bubbly self, I was free to stop ripping my hair out, and I cancelled the full scale intervention I was scheduling in my head.

The next day she woke up all cheery, inspired by the faux gateaux I brought home from my class, and announced that she dreamt of a sunflower cake.  I felt all the color draining from my face. This was not going to end well for me. I have never decorated a real cake with icing in my entire life. Where was my fondant rolling class now? Over. Was it possible for the instructor to fax me a cake? Someone needs to come up with a cake faxing app stat!

I was faced with making a cake with a design for the first time in my life. I nearly escaped it, but then P reminded Lanes about it.  Several dirty looks later, I packed off my smart Aleck of a spouse to the supermarket and he comes home with two sad tubes of colored icing.

In my loopy in head, I was envisioning something far more colorful and although by some miracle, like rain in the desert, I had icing sugar in the house, I had no food coloring.  Before I did something ‘creative’ like put turmeric into icing to make it yellow, I decided, like much things in my life, to just wing it.  

Lanes was supportive and appreciated my effort and dutifully gasped ‘oh it’s beautiful, Mamma’.  P was snickering and muttered that it looks like a ‘Van Gogh’. If he had said it was like a Picasso he would be limping. Pictures attached for those who want to feel good about themselves--I am rather a talent-less wonder in this department.

In other culinary news, my repertoire is no longer strictly Western--although I did make a chicken pot pie for the first time on Monday! Who’d have thought? I decided to experiment in the kitchen and I made panrolls/Chinese rolls, which is a Sri Lankan snack time favorite! Here is a url for those not sure what it is: http://www.infolanka.com/recipes/mess5/55.html

I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d ever make this dish,  so I was rather pleased with myself. Somewhere in the motherland, a lot of folks have lost a lot of money on bets about my ability to adapt in a kitchen.

Then again, it’s fair enough, because up until I moved to Canada, I could be seen looking at an oven like it was the flight deck of Apollo 11. I was literally lost in space when it came to cooking. Saute pans and skillets were all classified under UFO: Unidentified Frying Objects.

Back to the rolls, I whipped up extra crepes and actually made chicken and vegetable curries with made up recipes.  Looking up instructions, would be far too sensible a notion for the likes of me.  My idea of cooking curries is, or should I say, used to be, shuffling through take out menus and making a phone call! 

P, who was in an all time funk due to his massive workload, actually was delighted with my breakthrough. He even dared to smile. Gasp! I watched him take every bite, because he just will always give it to you straight. If you look fat, he will tell you you look fat. Consequences don't faze him. He loved all my new treats! So mission complete.

Of course, I didn’t produce these ‘wonders’ without ado. I burned my hand, the oven started smoking in  a weird way (on the one day they were actually testing our smoke detectors--maybe it was trying to send a SOS), and I set off our alarm so many times, I gained muscle in my arms flapping the smoke away from it. All the while, Lanes was skittering about underfoot like a nervous Chihuahua.

The person who came to check out smoke detector was very jovial. My kind of person—he was having a Reese’s buttercup at 9am—his second for the day. He tried to offer Lanes some chocolate, but she gave him the stink eye. Although he was nice, I was glad she was into giving strangers who offer her candy dirty looks. Good girl!

We briefly discussed our favorite chocolates and Lanes was given a paperclip, the only other token he had in his pocket. I was strongly advised to try Tim Horton’s ice cream and he was told to go get President’s Choice chocolate chip cookies! I wish I had one now. Speaking of which I have not touched any part of a KitKat bar in seven days! Weeeeeeeeeee.

I must offer P some since after his long week of work, he never got any rest either because our crazy apartment was infested with mold again, and he is the only one tall enough to tackle the ones on our ceiling. I could have climbed on a table, but equilibrium is not a friend of mine. Plus, I get dizzy when I look up and then suddenly look down. I'd hate to land on either P or Lanes.

After much scrubbing and bleaching, he succeeded in getting most of it out and changing the color of his sweatpants. As such, he was swearing and right now he is muttering to himself while looking up other places to live on the internet. I can barely concentrate on this post between that and my college student neighbor slamming his door nonstop for the last hour.

On that note, my sugar deprived, bleach fume damaged brain and I must bid you adieu till we meet again…more musings from BC next week! And please, do leave some comments for me: ) Happy Chinese New Year, and Happy Birthday Cousin M!