When my cakes don’t turn out right I throw them down the well. Then I hang my head over the edge of the well and my tears fall down into it.
Recently my husband complained that the well water has begun to taste suspiciously like tears and cake and if this doesn’t soon change he will take my face. The faces of several young women in their prime adorn the kitchen walls.
The key to making a good cake is to not look too much at the faces and focus only on adding each ingredient. There is a genuine pleasure in the making of a well-made cake.
I am so nervous I could die.