The Minz-Papa had retired early last night before being apprised of the salted cake fiasco.** And Minz got up late this morning. So it was that unwarned he ate of the alluring cake on the kitchen counter (the allure was in every aspect but for, as it were, the most crucial.) which she had not been able to bring herself to throw away immediately. Yes, I said apologetically, I mistook the salt for the sugar, the containers looked identical.This evening, deciding I would try again to make another cake (white wine & walnut bundt), I look in the kitchen cabinet and find the salt and sugar containers labelled in blue, bold marker ink, in Minz-Papa’s handwriting.
The Minz-Papa does not get much mileage in ”…and other animals” type family hi-jinks tales but this incident is entirely typical of him. I sometimes tell people (who want to know about him) this story: how for years I had been thumping down my books, sometimes quite heavy ones, on top of the toilet water tank, till they piled up like small mountains. After some years the tank (being made of plastic) cracked, causing a minor flooding incident. No one in this family would tell you to stop reading in the bathroom, naturally. Now I know lots of parents who would say, perfectly reasonably, how about taking your books out of the bathroom with you in future? Minz-Papa said nothing of the kind. In fact Minz-Papa said nothing at all. What Minz-Papa did the following day, quietly and without fuss, was to have a bookshelf put in.
** 2 jars of salt for 2 jars of sugar, as it happens, into what otherwise might have been a beautiful french yoghurt cake, she sighs.
Best of the Transparent Hummingbird