The adventures of the Englishwoman abroad became more 'broad' this week, as I was given a task that is more of a Louisiana tradition than that of Texas. "What is a King cake?" said I! I had heard the name, and knew that it was associated with Mardi Gras, but had no idea as to its origin, or indeed, what it is meant to look like. Say the word 'cake' to me, and I am thinking equal amounts of sugar, fat and flour with half the quantity of eggs. Place all in a bowl, mix, put in a tin, place in the oven, and cook until spongy. A cake is a cake. Right? Wrong! My week started out at the bottom of the hill, so to speak, and whilst I thought things could only get better, little did I realise that there was a basement to the mountain that had been growing in size since Sunday morning! The power cut had admittedly thrown me into a slight turmoil, causing me to evaluate my own vulnerability, but the power had been restored and all appeared to be well.
Sunday afternoon was spent at my sewing machine, stitching up long bags, with elasticated 'tops and tails', to hold plastic bags. I then sat down to complete the task that I had been putting off all weekend, as for some reason it had caused my stress levels to shoot through the ceiling. I had to renew my passport, and apparently this had to be done online, due to my being outside of the country of issuance!
'Declined' is a word that is not appreciated sprawled across a screen. It appears my pictures were not up to standard. I had been to Costco twice to have them done, and had given the girl behind the counter a printout of the specifications. "Shadows on face", was one of the problems. "But that is my face", I shouted at the screen. I am getting older. I have shadows! Also it appears the pixels were not of good enough quality and the 'meg' count was below standard. It was not a great picture (what passport picture is) but it was a good likeness as far as I was concerned. I could almost hear the screen talking back to me. "No it's not! Try again!" I was not a little bit concerned; I was out of my mind with anxiety. "How am I going to get a passport?" I wailed, irrationally. My husband put my mind at ease. "Your daughter has a state of the art camera", he said, calmly, rationally, and somewhat convincingly. I relaxed a degree or two, before trying to resubmit the photos again, so that I could take a picture of the list of problems.
Samantha did take my passport photo. She took it on her phone, and it was accepted! I must say that the photo submitted, out of the three that had been taken, was the worst out of the three. None were particularly flattering, but the final entry was most definitely the least complimentary of the bunch! I filled in the rest of my details and submitted all on line. I waited for the link that I was told would be requested. It did not appear. When I had called a week earlier, enquiring as to whom (and indeed how) I could get to endorse the pictures, I was told that it had to be someone with a British passport, and with qualifications as listed on the website. For example, a doctor (although not your GP, but someone who has known you...like your GP does not know you more intimately than some of your friends!) a solicitor, (although we know that means something different on this side of the pond,) an optician, a pharmacist, a teacher, etc, etc. "What if you have broken all ties with everyone in the UK?" I asked. "Try your hardest to find someone", was the unhelpful response. Was this a subtle hint that I should reconsider applying for citizenship? However, for whatever reason, the 'link' was not provided, and the possibility that the 'machine' could perform facial recognition was considered. Could it be that I have not changed in ten years? Hardly, but then to a robot, perhaps I have not! I would have to wait and see! Another unhelpful response given to a woman who was now not only sporting a different hair colour to that of ten years ago, but was about to sport no hair as she was going from metaphorically 'pulling it out' to almost doing it literally! I did follow instructions, and put my old passport in an 'fed-ex' envelope, which would be 'air-mailed' to the north of England, later that day. Hopefully, it would arrive in a couple of days, and I would wait for the next set of orders.
I spent Tuesday morning mixing and pounding. My 'upper body workout' took place around seven o'clock, as I kneaded the dough for ten minutes, wondering why I had been left with 'birthday cake' duties, as this had been passed down to my daughter. Again, the Internet was used as to whether I could put the dough into the fridge to rise, as I had to go to work, and would not be able to
'punch it down' in two hours! I doubted King Louis, (whichever King Louis) had a fridge, but then his cooks did not have to go off to work their 'other job' at eight o'clock!
"Of course you haven't got it yet!" I shouted at my computer screen! I had received an email from the passport office saying, "We have not received your old passport. Please send it immediately". I continued to talk to the screen, although I know not why! Twice I have had to fly back to England quickly. Once was when my father died, and once when Ollie was born. Both times I booked a flight, got on a plane within hours, and arrived at my mum's just over a day later. How did they expect my passport to arrive less than twenty four hours after my submitting the forms, when it specifically asked, "Where are you applying from?" I did not have to go through a sorting office at either end! "It is an automated email!" I was told by all whom were in earshot. "I know!" I responded, but still felt the automated system should have at least waited 48 hours!
The dough had doubled by the time I came home. Blake was going to be 21 on Wednesday, and we had all decided to make his coming of age something that he would remember. He is not a great 'socialite', and would probably have preferred the day to go by without much fuss, but his mum had other ideas, and wanted this to be a day that he would remember, or at least a birthday that would not go by without a good deal of fuss. She had arranged for a 'surprise' party on Saturday, and wanted us all to take part. She had asked Samantha and Grant to get him to the venue, without giving the game away! She had asked Samantha to make a cake, but my daughter was experiencing what she called 'rhinopharyngitis' (a common cold) and was not feeling up to much at all! In fact, Dana sent her home early on Tuesday, due to her constant coughing and general lacklustre! In fact, she felt like my passport photo looked! I was going to have to create something else for the weekend, as well as complete this enigma that I had started earlier in the day.
When I arrived home on Tuesday evening, I took the dough from the fridge, and followed the instructions again. I made the filling, which was mainly sugar, and rolled out two rectangles. With the filling spread totally unevenly, I started to roll up the shapes into a long baton and then brought the edges together to make a circle. It should have been an oval, but by now my patience was edging towards that basement by the foot of the mountain, the same tor at which I had been standing at the beginning of the week! "Place the ovals (there were two) on the two prepared baking sheets, and allow to double in size before putting in the oven for thirty minutes". I obeyed. "Once golden brown, bring out of the oven. Pour icing mixture over while still hot, and sprinkle with sugar". On both? Do I put one on top of the other? Are they meant to be joined? I felt like I was on the British Bake Off, during the challenge where they are given a recipe and non-specific instructions. If you have never made it before, you have no idea what it is meant to look like! I put one on top of the other, with the assumption being that it was called a King cake, so it should look like a crown. Right? Wrong!
"You are too far north!" said Michele, my manicurist, as I called on Wednesday morning to say I was lost! She has moved to a new salon, and although I was in the right area, I could not find the new venue. "Go south", he instructed. Which way was south? "Away from town", came the next instruction. Which way was town? I satin the car park of a bar. "Okay. When you get back on the road, the bar needs to be on your left", she said. I think she wondered at where I received my education, as along with being rather directionally challenged at times, I have a hard time with my left and right, and as I take my wedding ring off before having my nails painted, I do not have a hint! I resorted to the 'L' shape being made with my fingers and thumbs. It appears that I was in the right place originally, ten minutes earlier, but had turned right instead of left at the gym, or was it left instead of right! I found the salon block and went to find the booth. "What did the instructions say on the email? Wait at the front and I will come and get you!" she said with a slight smile. "I can only follow one set at a time", I wailed. "I am still on the 'bar has to be on your left' one at the moment!" She chuckled. "And I had to make a King cake", I said, hoping this would forge some sympathy. "Wow, you made one. Did you put the baby in?" It was my turn to be a southerner. "You what now?" I said, thoroughly perplexed. "The baby", she said, and shrugged her shoulders.
"What baby?" I asked Samantha and Grant as they asked the same question. "Why a baby?" I didn't have a baby. I did have a plastic bear in a grass skirt, that had obviously come from some event or other, and I pushed this up into the bottom layer. "Why are there two layers. It should be flat", they said. I will not repeat what I said!
When everyone was in the office, we had the traditional singing and blowing out of candles. "It is really quite good!" Blake told his mother. Apparently, it was different to the one she had been sent by her sister for Mardi Gras, and Grant explained that the texture of the other one was more like a Danish pastry than bready as was mine, but the two layers were almost demolished by the end of the day! I took it was a compliment.
A traditional (well almost) sponge was made on Thursday. Why I decided to go 'fancy' with the filling is still a mystery, but suffice it to say, a ganache is not what I should have made, as it is not thick enough. Icing sugar made it too sweet, and cocoa quite bitter, but time was running out. Butter cream was spread all over the cake and it was put in the fridge ready for Samantha to decorate on Saturday. I think Louis would have gone to Madame Guillotine quite willingly rather than eat the filling for this cake. King of icing it was not!
The reprimand for not covering the cake completely was almost the last straw. I stomped out of my kitchen, as Samantha barked at me. Perhaps 'barked' is too strong a description, but the mountain's basement appeared to go down several levels, and I was experiencing the lower extensions! After we established I did not have all the bakers tools that she required, she made a very good job of icing the cake, and we left it while we went shopping. The clouds rolled in and by the time we were at our second stop, the rain was pounding down. Umbrellas were useless as the wind caused them to turn inside out. By the time we exited our second venue, the sun was shining and the rain cleared up! We decorated the cake when we got home, and Samantha went home to get ready to take Blake to his 'surprise' party. Leaving the dog at my house whilst we all went to celebrate a 21st birthday was not a good idea in my opinion. Firstly, this would be the first time he would have been left alone. (My house was nearer to the venue, and we were not sure that Dana would stay for the whole event.) Secondly, it would be me who put him in his little house, and me who had to convince him that he was a 'good boy' whilst locking him in. Those two pointers would have been bad enough, but the third was unforeseen! About an hour before were due to leave, apparently, there had been a tornado to the north of us, causing high winds in all surrounding areas. Although not tornado strength, it was enough to cause a good deal of debris, and a sudden bang left us without power, for the third weekend in a row! I called the city power outage line. "Press one to report an outage". I did. "Press one to give your location". I did. "Press one if you want us to find you by your phone number". I did. "Sorry, we cannot understand you". I was in shock. Did I press the button in British English? I pressed a button! I don't use an accent to press a button! I was put on hold. After about twenty minutes I was transferred to a person, who asked for my address. "North Carrizo where?" I spelled my location, which was nothing like North Carrizo anything! "Ohh, yes it appears there is an outage, but I can't give you anymore information".
The party was a great success. Samantha and Grant had managed to convince Blake that they were taking him out for his birthday, and Edward drove them all to the venue. He was duly surprised, and thankfully very delighted! We went to Top Golf, and had two booths where we hit golf balls on to targets, plenty of food, and a good deal of drinks! I did not remain teetotal! Nor did Blake! Dana did not partake but did stay for the duration and had fun! "What is this fudge in the cake. It's amazing!" said Kelly. Samantha and I laughed! "That fudge was the best part of the cake. What was it?" said Dana! "An accident", I said on both countys! Edward, Samantha and Grant took Blake out to play pool, and everyone else, I assume, went home. "Don't give him shots, and make sure he gets home safely", said his mum to Samantha. "He's 21!" said Samantha to me. "She's still his mum!" I said to her! Circle of life. "There have been 141 incidents in your area, and they are still working on it, but we don't know the details", the lady at Austin Energy told Dana. The lights were still out in two blocks in our complex when we arrived home. The puppy was none the worse for wear, and although would not leave my side for the remainder of the time he was with us, appeared to be content. Samantha arrived back at my house just before midnight with an inebriated Blake, who had to use the bathroom, and then got lost in my rather small sun room. The thought of having to go to his boss's house whilst intoxicated was not his idea of fun! However, I have been there, had kids there, got the t-shirt and even written an item or two on the subject!
Our power came back on around 10:30 am Sunday morning, and I felt a sense of relief. My main concern was for my freezer, or the contents therein. Everyone arrived home safely and whilst I am not sure as to Blake's state of health this morning, I am sure he is fine, and appeared to have a birthday to remember. I know I will try all the other recipes for King cake, especially now I have found La Gallette Des Rois! However, I may not do this for a while. As for the baby? 'King' has nothing to do with Louis, Arthur or any other monarch in Europe or the pre-united Americas. It is the baby Messiah! Mardi Gras, aka Fat Tuesday, aka Shrove Tuesday, is the beginning of Lent! Pancakes and King cake are not dissimilar in that they use flour, milk and eggs! Please, no answers on a postcard; I only follow recipes! (Not instructions, it would appear!)
I am very much hoping for power continuance throughout the week, and next weekend. I am off now to make something 'traditional' with bananas, as I have a glut, despite an oath yesterday never to cook again! Hopefully, my passport will come to the top of the queue it is apparently waiting in, and next week will bring forth something less stressful, or what seemed stressful in my eyes, my world! Time will tell in ............ another story!
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