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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Food/Cooking · #2249355
One of the tastiest accidents experienced. No Dialogue Contest April 2021
There are many kinds of ‘melt-downs’ these days. There are perfectly public ones indulged in by the widest spectrum of age and ethnic groupings, and then there are some extremely private emotional ones. Other melt-downs sweep the globe, magically creating terror in the hearts of Earth’s emotionally and cerebrally vulnerable inhabitants. Seems to me, yesterday’s ‘melt-downs’ were a heap simpler. Here’s a tale of yesteryear to prove my point.


On a memorable occasion, during our farming 'apprenticeship' on a friend's vast wheat and sheep farm, it was I who let the side down—despite my wood stove's valiant and trustworthy contribution to turning concoctions from the mixing bowl into masterpieces on the menu. Can't help wondering how many triumphs accidentally evolved out of near tragedies? Like the one that unfolded the day I made my famous Chocolate cake.

It began simply enough with a superb Chocolate cake recipe I decided to double. When it features in the memory stakes, hubby will innocently, but inevitably, ask what it was I forgot. He knows, that man of mine, but he loves teasing me about it and hearing the story again and again. These days, after years of practice, I'm quite brave in my response as I tell him it was the flour. This is not technically correct. I DID remember the flour. I just didn't increase it at all when I doubled all the other ingredients.

My so-called 'better' half adopts an even more angelic expression as he asks whether that should make a difference. Obviously, he will never be competing on TV shows like ‘Masterchef’. As always, I grit my teeth behind a tightish smile as I assure him the doubled flour DOES actually matter… although, in this case, the consumers approved my lapse when it became a deliriously delicious something—more pudding-like than the planned cake. My red face of embarrassment smartly changed to the sweet flush of success, as the men heartily applauded my effort with lip-smacking appreciation (dare I mention the cream that made ALL the difference?). Thankfully, the day was well and truly saved.

Due to my floury omission, I claim I made the original Chocolate Mud Cake or Chocolate Lava Cake. I'm not fussed by its name—or whether anyone else agrees with me—'the proof of the pudding is in the eating' and this was how we ate it, with lavish dollops of cream on top. Luckily, no-one was counting cholesterol levels in those faraway days. In fact, if we knew the word back then, we never used it. Maybe doctors did. I think about today's cholesterol problems and multitude of health warnings of potential doom, and I wonder why it's no surprise to learn we were healthier in our ignorance?

Now there's food for thought.

(469 words)

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