Column # 228
Rum (made the difference) Cake

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Living the Life of Holly
by Holly Winter
© 2007
Rum (made the difference) Cake

It was one of those last minute ideas that became legendary, though there are those who now claim it was part of some celebratory plan, I assure you, it wasn’t.

Teresa was turning thirty and I’d offered to make her a gluten free chocolate cake for her party-of-the-changing-decade. See? Plain and simple. This decision to bake was the easy part. But. I wanted to jazz the cake up a bit. Gluten free cakes tend towards dry and tasteless without doctoring.

Flavor. How might I add flavor?

Rather than add the quarter cup of milk to the batter, I decided to substitute rum from one of my dusty bottles over the stove. I’d never tried this before and had no idea if it the change in liquid might make the batter explode in the oven, but her thirtieth birthday seemed like reason enough to try.

After a good stir, I tasted the mix.

My, my. Delicious. Chocolate and rum? Delicious.

The cake baked perfectly as sweet smells filled my kitchen.

Whether I continued feeling experimental or was suffering from tasting too much batter is unclear now. But. The obvious icing solution had to include more rum, you know, to link up the flavors. So, rather than add cream to my cream cheese icing as I might have done for a non-decade party, I tipped the bottle.

I tasted the icing. Um. What rum? Maybe another hit would help.

An unlikely chemical reaction happened, which I don’t understand because I’m not a scientist. But. The rum didn’t thin out the icing as milk or cream might have done. Rather than consult a chemist, I added more.

Um. Nope. Problem not solved. Icing still too thick.

Ok. Fine. I added, then tasted the swirls of sugar and alcohol. Oh. Yum. Sweet alcohol. Delish. I added more.

Half the bottle later, the icing was the right consistency for covering a cake: smooth and soft enough, with just a touch of drip to it.

I needed to taste my creation. Sure, it was perfect for covering a cake, but would too much of a good rum be too much? I sampled. Oh. My. Sweet. Smooth. It had a bite to it, sort of like I had just downed a quick shot, but then the sweetness took over.

Oh. Joy. Teresa was going to love this.

I tried more. This was amazing. Really good. First it tasted as sweet as could be, then came the bite, then sweet again, kind of like a rum sandwich. What a mixture. I got a spoon and sampled it again. Smooth. Creamy. Hey. I really hit on something here.

My friend, Mary, called.

“What’a you doin?”

“Darlin! I’m having so much fun. You must come right away.”

She laughed. “Are you drunk?”

“No. But. Girl. I’m experimenting with rum. Hurry over.”

“I’m at the mechanic’s. They’re trying to decide if my car needs something new.”

I sampled more. “You’re missing out, girlfriend. I’ve just invented rum icing.”

“Oh.” she wailed into the phone. “Save me some. I can be there in an hour.”

“Nope. I’ll be gone in twenty minutes. But. You can try it tonight at the party.”

“Ten minutes.” she promised. “I can be there in ten.”

I sampled more. “I’m leaving in five.”

She laughed. “Good, God Holly. Stop sampling.”

I hung up and got ready for my blind date. Um. Did I sample too much? I called Teresa on the way to meet Date for tea and left her a message.

“Girl. I may be getting married today. So. If I do, I’ll probably do it in Vegas. I’ve had a bit-a-rum, so chances are this will be the day my mother has been waiting for. Hey. Get Tom to give you the cake. It’s in my apartment…. But. Hey. If I don’t get married, I’ll bring the cake myself. And….wait till you try this invention…. rum cake and rum icing. Yeah…. Save your-thirty-year-old-self for this…. there’s at least a shot of rum per piece of cake…”

Date wasn’t waiting outside the coffee shop as per our arrangement. How interesting, was he playing ‘Hide and Seek?” I hummed along to Keb Mo’s ‘Life is Beautiful’ while I waited.

I didn’t see him inside. Cool! Was I being stood up?

I called his cell phone. “Hello Mr. Date. It’s Holly.”

Annoyed voice. “Where are you?”

I laughed. “In our agreed meeting spot. Outside the front door.”

“I’m inside.”

Wow. A little rum icing and his attitude didn’t bother me at all. “Well. Then.” I said, lightly. “The way I see it, this is our first major decision: Will you come outside to meet me, or should I come inside to meet you?”

“Would you please come inside?”

I found him standing inside the front door. “Nice to see you.” I greeted him, as if I’d seen him just yesterday.

He was already drinking coffee. Loser. Was he trying to get out of buying me a drink? Hey. He invited me…

“Well….” he said. “Are you going to get yourself a drink?”

Man. I’m so lucky. I might have married this man and been stuck buying my own tea for the rest of my life. Oh. Lucky break for me that I stopped sampling icing when I did. “Yes.” I laughed. “Think I will buy my own.”

We carried our drinks out to the waterfalls.

“You know, Holly. You’ve already earned points with me.”

“Really?” Ok. But. I was curious. I earned points? If it were for any of the following reasons, I was going to stand up and yell, “BINGO” as loud as I could.
1. I showed up.
2. I found him.
3. I bought my own drink.
4. I laughed when he wasn’t funny.

He sipped his coffee. “You earned points because you didn’t shake my hand when you met me.”

I didn’t have to answer, as the rain took over, pelting us with large, cold drops.

“Guess I should be getting home.” I announced.

Later at Teresa’s party I made everyone stick a finger into the icing before they sampled the cake.

“That’s insane. How did you do it?”

“I added rum, then I added a little more rum….”

We had to work a bit to keep it from the kids. Everyone wanted the recipe.

A few months later Teresa and a friend stumbled to the fridge after a late night out and found the leftover cake. As single people are prone to do, they smelled the cake and stabbed it with a knife before they slowly sampled bits.

The cake remained soft and flaky, not a bit of mold in sight. The frosting was still smooth and sweet, no signs of aging. After a slow start, they let their hunger take over as they slowly ate the celebration echo and sent me an incomprehensible e-mail, suggesting the rum hadn’t lost its charm.

No. I’ll never know if the cake was edible because the extra high alcohol content acted as a preservative, or if their late night hunger pangs put blinders on what might ordinarily be considered terrifying.

I don’t know about you, but I’d like to think the rum made the difference.

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Holly answers all e-mails. E-mail her:
holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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