Yesterday as I was driving Spencer to school, before I returned home to run Tucker to school, my phone rang. Jane apologized for bothering me, but she was in a pinch. She needed more parents to bring food to the staff appreciation luncheon at school.
“I didn’t know if you were busy this evening…” she paused just a few seconds so I could jump in and volunteer there.
“Well, I teach tonight, but I can help,” I said.
In my mind I was cataloging my day. Teach at 10, breast center at 1, drive north of Columbus for my 6 to 10 p.m. class.
I agreed to make a dessert. When I got home at 4, I had nearly an hour before I had to leave again, so I whipped out my Cola Cake recipe and started baking. Cola cake is one of those things I tasted at a church dinner when I was a kid. The chocolate cake is incredibly moist. It has the magic southern ingredients of Coca Cola and miniature marshmallows. What’s not to like?
The cake baked and the marshmallows rose to the top forming a crispy crust on the top.
“Please, Mom. Can’t we keep it?” Tucker asked as the smell permeated the house. “You can give the teachers something else.”
I headed off to class, leaving the cake without icing. On the way home from class, hungry, I thought, “Sure. I can bake that cookie dough I froze last week when I doubled the batch.”
I told Tucker that we would keep the cake and give the teachers the chocolate chip cookies. I stirred the cola, butter and cocoa into an icing. With a last flourish, I spread the chocolate icing over the cake and it was ready.
I sliced a piece and placed it on a plate.
“Tucker,” I called. “Cake’s ready.”
“Nah. I’m not hungry right now,” he said.
So I ate the piece of cake, and I had another for breakfast. Since then, I’ve been giving pieces to the neighbors in hopes that I don’t eat the entire Cola Cake.
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