The March Slice of Life Challenge is hosted by Stacey and Ruth at Two Writing Teachers
This Easter, I finally felt that I could make the dessert my husband has been requesting for the last many years - profiteroles. I had gone right to the source, Julia Child, and took comfort in her assurance that this was a delightfully easy little dessert, it took no time at all to prepare, and looked like this:
So, after I had prepared the main events and had them all baking away merrily, I went about measuring and sifting and melting and following Julia's directions carefully. Everyone was gathered around the kitchen island, yakking away, while I went about this task. Perhaps it was because I had had such success with the ham and the fixings that morning, or maybe it had more to do with the excellent champagne we had opened to toast our youngest's feat of getting into every college she'd applied to, but I was feeling very confident... These profiteroles were going to be well worth the 23 year wait!
Soon, the kitchen filled with that lovely aroma of baking - and I began to receive compliments, which pleased me at first and then made me nervous. I started to remember that I had not really measured out the butter quite as exactly as called for, and that I had lost count of the number of eggs I had used - there were five shells in the waste bin, and the recipe had called for four...but didn't someone have an egg for breakfast? I should have checked...but it was too late.
I was hoping for some privacy when it was time for the big reveal, but I couldn't very well ask everyone to leave when they were having such a good time...so I opened the oven door and out popped a tray of brown and misshapen rolls - a sad and sorry sight. There was a quiet moment - my family wrestled with conflicting emotions...they felt pity for the cook who had slaved away and with such good intentions, but they also knew that these rolls were undoubtedly inedible.
"I think they are supposed to look that way," my ever loyal husband offered, "but I'll bet they are just perfect inside." No...he was wrong about that. These were weight lifting profiteroles, discus throwing profiteroles, hockey puck profiteroles....any sport but eating profiteroles. I was downcast, but not defeated - I had bought a ready made, just-in-case blueberry pie, so we would have dessert after all.
Just then, I noticed that my daughter Olivia, who had been dancing around the kitchen chopping pineapples and whipping up cream cheese, had slid two perfectly formed cake tins into the still-warm oven. She gave me a friendly, don't sweat it, Mom, wink. She had a just-in-case dessert plan as well, and good thing, too...for this is what she baked:
Olivia's magnificent, delicious, very timely, save-Easter-Day, Hummingbird Cake!