Friday the 13th passed without major distress, but I think I had a bit of a Friday the 13th moment the past Sunday. I wanted to make one of my favourite cakes, the pear and chocolate cake, for a gathering of some very smart and ambitious young women. They are all fans of chocolate, so I thought this cake would be a winner. The meeting was on Monday, so I would make the cake on Sunday.
However, Sunday was a very long day. The boyfriend was making a stop-over in Zürich, flying through Zürich between two conferences. We met at the airport, had dinner, and then he was off to the country of Prekmurska gibanica. By the time I got home, I was quite tired, but there was still one elaborate cake waiting to be made.
The process went quite well, but took a long time, as expected. Once the cake was baked, I was really ready to go to bed. That is why I wanted to plate the cake as soon as possible, while it was still hot.
BAM! Onto the working surface instead of the plate.
I was looking at the disaster of a broken cake in a pastry shell, and almost started to cry. I did not throw the broken cake in the trash, just left it there to fill the space with the aroma of pear and chocolate.
A thought passed through my head of how I would save this disaster—after all, the working surface was perfectly clean and there was nothing wrong with the cake apart from the looks. But so tired, I could not hold on to the thought of rescuing the fallen cake; I went to bed.
It is wonderful how the brain works in the background, while sleeping and recovering. The following morning, I woke up with a flash of insight: I will make something like Eton mess out of my cake. Sure enough, I had some Greek yogurt in the fridge to complement the sweetness of the cake, so I filled some jars with the “mess,” added a dollop of yogurt, and sprinkled with some sugary stars. Cuteness in a jar!