Brenda's 'Rustic' Bake Sale Masterpiece
Brenda beamed at her creation, a lopsided, vaguely brown mass sitting proudly on the cooling rack. “Isn’t it magnificent, Clive?” she chirped, practically vibrating with pride. “It’s for the charity bake sale! I call it ‘The Sunrise Swirl’!”
Clive, a man whose default setting was ‘skeptical’ and whose secondary setting was ‘dry wit,’ peered over her shoulder. His eyes, usually crinkled at the corners from suppressed amusement, were now wide with an almost theatrical horror. “Magnificent,” he echoed slowly, “is certainly a word. I’m just trying to ascertain if it’s more ‘geological marvel’ or ‘post-apocalyptic art installation.’ The ‘swirl,’ I presume, refers to the way the top is attempting to escape the bottom?”
Brenda waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that’s just its… rustic charm! It’s unique. Not like those boring, perfectly symmetrical cakes everyone else makes.”
“Indeed,” Clive agreed, prodding a particularly dense-looking section with his finger. “I’m sure the structural integrity alone will fetch a premium. One could probably use this as a surprisingly sturdy doorstop, or perhaps even a primitive weapon in a pinch. It certainly has presence.”
“And the colour!” Brenda gushed, oblivious. “It’s not burnt, it’s ‘caramelized to perfection’!”
“Right,” Clive nodded sagely. “Perfection. The kind of perfection usually achieved just before something bursts into spontaneous combustion. I imagine it will pair wonderfully with a robust glass of water, or perhaps a fire extinguisher. What flavour is it supposed to be, by the way? Because I’m getting distinct notes of ‘ambition’ and ‘a kitchen fire drill’.”
Brenda just giggled. “Oh, Clive, you’re such a tease! It’s chocolate fudge with a hint of orange. The recipe said to zest the oranges.”
Clive raised an eyebrow. “Did the recipe also suggest zesting the entire orange, peel and all, into a single, concentrated mass? Because if so, you, my dear Brenda, are a culinary visionary. I’m sure it’ll be the most ‘memorable’ item at the bake sale. People will talk about this cake for years. Primarily in hushed, reverent tones of bewilderment, but talk nonetheless.”