The Perfect Cake, Destroyed

Mel Brooks explained the difference between comedy and tragedy as this, "Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when somebody falls through an open manhole and dies."

Today I am a comedic figure since I am dealing with some petty tragedy. Last night I baked a cake. It was going to be light airy orange chiffon perfection, but I was an idiot and did not pay attention to the warning signs that it was not ready to come out so when I turn it over to hang and cool it fell with a disheartening plop. A beautiful wreak of wonderfully orange scented slightly undercooked cake chucks. Being the sort of person I am this lead to quite a bit of self recrimination and this morning I'm somewhat nuts, on the edge between buckeling down and trying again with mad determination to make things as pin perfect as a 1950s Republican housewife and throwing up my hands and screaming, "I don't want a party!"

Right. Well I feel a bit better for writing this. Time to try again with lemon chiffon and then seeing if I can get three more oranges to try, try again on a second cake. I'm still nuts but for right now it is taking the form of insane baking.