On Monday I made two birthday cakes – one for Aly, who turned 7 last Friday, and one for Irene, who turned 8 on Monday. We combined their birthday celebration, but still had two cakes – one chocolate with funfetti frosting (Irene’s) and the other vanilla with chocolate frosting (Aly’s). Surprisingly, being in charge of these cakes turned out to be the most stressful thing I’ve done here!
On Monday morning, the cake-making process began well. Since I was filling in as Aly and Vanesa’s tia from 9:00 a.m.-noon, I thought baking the cakes would keep them occupied. They helped me measure the water, crack the eggs, mix, lick the bowls and spoons (of course), and then wash them. There was a slight problem when they couldn’t properly share the licking responsibility, but overall, I thought it was a successful activity.
However, upon pre-heating the oven, I began to panic when I realized the directions were in Fahrenheit, the oven is in Celsius and our internet was down (and had been for the past three days), so I wouldn’t be able to find an online conversion tool. Fortunately (and to my amazement), Justin knew the conversion formula for Celsius to Fahrenheit (multiply by 9, divide by 5, add 32). All I had to do was use it backwards to discover that 350⁰ Fahrenheit equals approximately 176⁰ Celsius. Crisis averted.
Fast-forward 30 minutes - the cakes turned out beautifully! I set them on the counter to cool, and there they sat until the evening.
After dinner I iced the cakes, and to avoid slowing down the serving process, and because there were so many people to feed (approximately 21 kids, 8 employees/missionaries, 13 mission team members), I decided to preemptively cut them as well. Each cake was cut, 5 x 5, 25 pieces, 50 total. So far so good.
The stressful part commenced as we crept closer to celebration time. The team had arrived at the house for the first time right before dinner, so they and the kids were still super excited to be meeting each other, resulting in a thunderous sea of voices and plenty of high-pitched shouting and squealing. Amid the din, I stood by the cakes counting out candles, and one by one, kids started to creep closer, touching the cake pans, removing the covers, needing to look at the cakes, whining for a piece, attempting to sneak a fingerfull of icing, asking if they could carry the cakes to the table, etc., etc.
My drill sergeant side emerged because I knew if I said “yes” to one, I would have to say “yes” to everyone, or hear about it for the rest of the night. I hovered protectively over the cakes, like a mother bear protecting her cubs, swatting away grubby hands and always answering, “No” and “No toques (Don’t touch)!” and, for those that started to pout/whine, “If you want a piece you will mind what I say. Now go sit down and wait.” (Please don’t judge me. The kids often need firm orders, or they’d never do anything you ask them to do.)
“Niños, the Americans are going to serve the cake. Sit down!” The majority of them heard and obeyed, but some, not to be deterred from their goal, had to be told several times to sit or they wouldn’t get any cake at all (an empty threat).
Halfway through the serving process, several of the kitchen lights dimmed, one began strobing, turning the room into a dance club, and then they, and all the lights in the house, went out. Ever tried to serve cake to 42 people in the dark? Thankfully, flashlights were found, and I continued serving, but then the kids who had devoured their cake came back, begging for another piece or “Just a little more?”
“There’s only enough for one piece for everyone!” I attempted to shout over the din of talking, shouting, laughing, crying, eating children and Americans. I don’t know how many times I had to say, “¡Ya comiste (You already ate one)!” which resulted in more pouty faces, some tears.
Finally, after 45 minutes of fending off begging, pleading, crying children, everyone had been served a piece of cake and I breathed a sigh of relief. When I had started this project I thought, “I love desserts, and I love to bake, so how difficult could it be to make a couple of birthday cakes?” Ha! Joke’s on me.
