I tried baking a cake again, and sometimes a person just really needs to admit defeat. Pride can only go so long with bruises and broken kneecaps before it falls to the floor screaming, “oh for fuck sake just stop trying”. Well, Pride, I think you win this one; it’s time for me to give up.
I make pretty good tasting food; I am completely useless when it comes to baking though. I try to tell myself it’s because I don’t eat cake, or I don’t understand the ingredients, or the oven is a demonic war-bot from the future that is pissed because he lost his arms and legs during the teleportation process.
Can’t hide behind those reasons forever now can I. Simply put; baking is my Achilles’ heel.
Baking, for me, turns out to be this well planned out daylong activity. Finding a good recipe, scouring for the right ingredients, measuring everything out perfectly beforehand, looking for all the pans, rinsing all the pans because it is covered in at least 6 layers of dust, tossing the mixture in the oven, waiting, sulking for at least 5 hours because it does not match the picture. I know, it “never really looks like the picture”. I get it, but it never “really looks like a regurgitated mess” either.
Perhaps it’s because I consider myself a “food rebel”. I cook from the heart. I don’t follow recipes at all. Baking is more like a science. Well you know what, baking, take your science and your rules and suck it.
Here are ten perfectly valid reasons I don’t bake:
1. I don’t have a pink polka dot apron – these give blond hair and birds chirping which turns any ingredient into the perfect cake!
2. Listening to metal while baking destroys the equilibrium of cake batter! You hear that, no metal!
3. There is no sunshine in my kitchen. Cake aromas are afraid of the dark!
4. I am a rebel – I WILL NOT FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS! Who are you? Hitler?
5. After baking my kitchen looks like the remains of a World War. Recently been compared to that of a child’s. Oh no you didn’t!
6. Contrary to popular belief, saying “fuck” more than 200 times while baking a lopsided cake is not my idea of fun.
7. I am an accident whore, so I always end up with batter in my eyes or burning my legs or scorching off my eyebrows.
8. All that hard work, and I don’t even eat it! I don’t like people enough to do it “merely to see how happy it makes those around you”.
9. I actually do enjoy seeing “how happy it makes other people”, which means I do care. Am I getting soft on myself? Aaaargh!
10. I want to feel the same sense of achievement that Paula Deen feels when she uses all her butter in a dish and no one gets a heart attack. Instead I am left feeling like I have been used by a cupcake to satisfy his own needs, and no amount of alcohol will ever fix that.
So, for now I will hang up my (black) apron, until my baking fairy godmother appears to me, and gives me the ability to bake the best cake this world has ever seen!