Life's Most Embarrassing Moments--Part 1

When you write every day, you spend a lot of time forcing your life to pass before your eyes—anything to conjure a forgotten moment in the recesses of your brain.  Today, I began remembering embarrassments.  We all have those memories that we’d rather forget—tucking a skirt in our pantyhose, toilet paper stuck to a shoe, flop sweat in an important presentation—these are the times that give us character.  As I like to say to my children, it’s what you do next that counts.

Frequently—at least once a year—we entertain members of my husband’s department.  At one such occasion and at someone’s request, I made my almost legendary cheesecake.  Cheesecake is a rather simple recipe—not more than 5 ingredients—but it is the technique that separates a true chef from the dilettantes.  There are many secrets to making a cheesecake smooth, tall, and uncracked.   Most recipes don’t take the time to specify the importance of adding eggs one at a time, setting the cake in a bain marie, baking at a low temperature, or allowing the cake to cool slowly in the oven with the door open.  And the unfortunate part is that you cannot tell whether you are going to be successful along the way.  It is a surprise when you open the refrigerator the following morning and the cake is perfect.

So there we were, over thirty people mulling around the buffet eying the beautiful cheesecake sitting high atop its pedestal like a spoiled princess.  Thankfully, it was one of those times when the cake set up perfectly allowing me to showcase it without covering it with berries, or pecans, or something cloyingly sweet, like caramel.   People were admiring the lovely confection, pretending surprise that it was homemade and not from the bakery.  I oozed with pride.  

Then came time to cut the cake.  I officiated with knife in hand, cutting perfectly uniform slices and placing them on plates.  Then, as I worked the room I began finding uneaten pieces of cheesecake all over the house—on end tables, in the trashcan, on shelves.  I could not understand.  Quietly, I cut myself a piece and tasted it.  Something was dreadfully wrong!  It was so tangy—almost sour; it made my mouth pucker.  I closed my eyes and replayed the process, counting down the ingredients in my head.  Sugar!  I forgot to add sugar to the mixture.  The cake tasted like an oreo sandwich with a slab of cream cheese in place of the sweet icing.  

Humiliated, I removed the cheesecake from the buffet and searched the house for something to substitute while the red in my cheeks subsided.  People were beginning to make their excuses and slip out the door.  Apparently, embarrassment works both ways.  In my best imitation of MacGyver, I found a basket of strawberries in the refrigerator, a can of Hershey’s syrup, a bag of marshmallows, and a tin of Amaretti cookies in the pantry.  Placed on a large tray in festive bowls, I had an instant chocolate fondue treat!  With a flourish, I presented the new dessert and beckoned the masses back into the dining room.

Ever since this fiasco, I make sure to keep emergency provisions in the pantry.  I also bake off a small sample of my cheesecakes in a small ramekin for quality control.  Invariably, my husband will find something during a party that I have reserved in the refrigerator as a Plan B.  He will try to pull it out, confused as to why I haven’t served it.  Let this be our little secret!

Tomorrow's blog:  Life's Most Embarrassing Moments--Part Deux