The Phallic Cake
Updated: Apr 1, 2019
Before having children, I had next to no cooking skills. I guess I could have learned to cook by watching my family prepare meals, but I just wasn't interested. There were far more important things in life to focus on, like my studies, learning guitar or socialising with my friends. I still managed to cope without any culinary skills at university. I lived in a share house for 4 years, never turning the shiny, new oven on once! I dealt with the problem by ordering a lot of takeaway pizzas, making grilled-cheese sandwiches and consuming pasta in the evenings.
When I met my husband and he slept over at my house for the first time, he woke up early and went to the shops. I thought he might have been going to buy us some coffees, but in fact, he was out buying me a frying pan and spatula to make eggs for breakfast. This is when I became aware of my cupboards lacking the normal cookware!
Fast forward a few years. I found myself as a stay-at-home wife and mother. Suddenly, cooking became a necessity. It didn't start out so well. A baking problem occurred when it was my daughter's 1st birthday. There was a bit of excitement surrounding this most important event. Everyone was fighting over who would make the 'first' birthday cake for my 'first' daughter. I felt entitled to make it. I didn't care if all her grandparents were more experienced at cake-making and decorating than me. I was the mother and I went through over 19 hours of getting that bun out of the oven! I decided to bake a cake in the shape of the number 1. Since pink was her favourite colour, I would create a perfect, pink #1 cake!
Well, that was the plan anyway.
I had added a bit too much cake mix to the #1-shaped pan. The more the batter rose, the fluffier it got in the oven, the more it began taking the shape of something very inappropriate. Instead of looking like a princess pink #1 cake; the end result looked like a flesh-coloured penis cake! I was shocked and mortified because it was late at night and there was no time to get all the ingredients and make a new one for our early morning guests. After my husband and I examined the perverted cake, we poured a few drinks and the more we drank, the funnier the whole situation became.
The next morning, I somehow managed to fix it up for the big party, but my friends and family have teased me about it for years. I was even asked by a friend to make a phallic cake for her Hen's night.
After many years of marriage, I have somehow evolved into a pretty good cook (if I do say so myself!) I don't really know how it happened. I found myself thinking about cooking and planning dinners for the upcoming week. This helped save money and limited my trips to my most-hated place—the grocery store. I started to think about what I needed, what was nutritious for my family and what would make everyone happy. The phallic cake, however, was taken off the menu for good.