It was one of those nights when all conditions are perfect to laugh so hard you are drawn to tears and can't even talk.
Last Friday night, my sister, Kim, wanted to make a test cake for Kadesh's 1st birthday, which will be September 30th. She started making the cakes and I looked up a fondant recipe. Marshmallow fondant seemed to be the popular option, but we didn't have any marshmallows, so I trotted over to the grocery store, maybe a half-mile away and picked some up.
When I returned, while Kim put Kadesh, to bed, I decided to tackle the fondant. Things started out well microwaving the marshmallows, stirring in the water and vanilla... ok, now to adding in the powdered sugar, 1 cup at a time, blending well with a hand mixer. And there began the real fun. Said hand mixer happened to be a family heirloom, handed down from the mother-in-law -- the faithful mixer of many a cake in its day. However, on that fateful night, fondant was a bit much for it and not only did it fall apart with the beaters still going, but the fan started eating my shirt! I know, I know... I should've taken pictures.
I panicked, wondering if up or down on the switch was off, but I got it switched off (with a spark), unplugged it and detangled my shirt from the fan. I then released the beaters and proceeded to mix more of the powdered sugar in by hand, using the beaters.
Assuming that the strength of the aged mixer was not an issue, I looked at the bag of powdered sugar and feared the worst. I had added too much already and that was what caused the mixer's downfall and my shirt's partially stained demise.
I glanced
back at the recipe on the iPad and saw "16 oz bag" on the list and
was affirmed in my error of adding too much powdered sugar. Since I already had too much, I coated my
hands with butter, as instructed, and proceeded to pour the mixture onto a
cookie sheet for kneading.
Don't forget that the sticky, messy hands were unable to open the iPad to confirm the recipe or give hope of redemption for the mixture that in no way resembled fondant.
Thankfully, Kim came back down and asked, "Are you laughing or crying?" "Laughing!" but I could barely get that out. I tried to recount to her what had happened, but I was laughing so hard and balancing sticky hands over a cookie sheet that I had tears streaming down my face.
She patiently waited for me to collect myself and then understood that I needed her to open the recipe. Thankfully, I had misread which bag was a 16 oz bag (marshmallows vs. powdered sugar) and all was not lost. I kneaded in the remaining powdered sugar and eventually washed my hands and the dishes of all stickiness.
Even though I am now very much more experienced with marshmallow fondant (I have the powdered sugar laden clothes to prove it), I'm not sure if I can be trusted to mix it when it comes time for the real birthday cake! ;)
Grace abounds and tomorrow is another day.
May your weekend be filled with family, food, and memories to last a lifetime :)
(The picture is of the test cake, decorated by my sister with the fondant I made.)