MOMMY!
IT!
IS!
RUNNING!
OVER!
In full transparency, I was upstairs
Just sitting in my grandmother's comfy yet diminutive armchair
Watching the sunlight slip like silk through the bedroom window blinds
and highlight speckled slivers of our floral rug
It was quiet
And separate
In full transparency, I forgot about "the cake" in the oven
He watches "Chopped Sweets" and is empowered to create
Tossing in a variety of ingredients, a little of this, a lot of that
In full confidence that his recipe will be worthy of the prize
At seven years old
"It's cinnamon-forward, Mommy"
I bounded down the stairs to flip open the oven door
In full transparency, I just about lost it
The chocolate batter oozed its way across the oven's floor
Burning around the edges, smoldering like a forest fire expanding its domain
Smoking like one, too
It was both quiet and obnoxious
Write on,
b
Just sitting in my grandmother's comfy yet diminutive armchair
Watching the sunlight slip like silk through the bedroom window blinds
and highlight speckled slivers of our floral rug
It was quiet
And separate
In full transparency, I forgot about "the cake" in the oven
He watches "Chopped Sweets" and is empowered to create
Tossing in a variety of ingredients, a little of this, a lot of that
In full confidence that his recipe will be worthy of the prize
At seven years old
"It's cinnamon-forward, Mommy"
I bounded down the stairs to flip open the oven door
In full transparency, I just about lost it
The chocolate batter oozed its way across the oven's floor
Burning around the edges, smoldering like a forest fire expanding its domain
Smoking like one, too
It was both quiet and obnoxious
On the rack above, the covered pan of lasagna simmered...
MUST!
SAVE!
FROM!
SMELLING!
LIKE!
SMOKE!
Out came a cookie sheet to remove "the cake" from the oven
Out came the oven's bottom rack to make more room
Out came a metal spatula to scrape up the smoldering batter
The kitchen door and front door opened to remove the smoke from the kitchen
The burnt, oozing cake scraps disgraced the patio table
And the lasagna returned to its safe simmer
On the stovetop, "the cake" rested
Adding another layer to our little baking inquiry
What happens when you partially bake an item and
let the residual heat finish the process
Oh to find out...the triumph; the glory; the utter science of it all
In full transparency, I just want the lasagna...
Write on,
b
In full transparency, I truly enjoyed every word of this and may have snorted a couple of times. Oh my! What an ordeal! How was the lasagna? :-)
ReplyDeleteThis made me laugh. I see your cozy escape and abrupt departure. You described the scene so well. I have to tell you I am rooting for any 7 year old who says, "It's cinnamon-forward, Mommy"
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh. As someone who loves baking shows way too much, I understand! But I hope the lasagna was okay.
ReplyDeleteKitchen excitement! It never fails to make for good stories. Thanks for this one!
ReplyDeleteYou craft words in remarkable ways. The stanza with you in the chair by the window says so much...the final line in that stanza — “and separate” is powerful in setting the stage for the rest of the story.
ReplyDeleteI’m sure you didn’t want to laugh in the moment, but now that the moment is over, I hope you can muster a smile. It is a charming story of a “ cinnamon-forward” baker and his supportive momma!
I love the juxtaposition of the quiet, lovely first verse and the description of kitchen chaos that follows. The picture just captures it. I'm hoping there was a happy ending!
ReplyDelete