Yesterday I made a strawberry pie, a bonnie butter cake, and started on an apron. When I told mom this she said, “What’s next? You’re getting married?”
Ha ha ha.
I also bought a pheasant-under-glass. I don’t really know what they’re actually called. They look like this.
There was this song we used to sing at school about my mother being the greatest cook ever who could make a chocolate cake without a recipe and make bologna taste like Pheasant under glass. I didn’t think Pheasant under glass sounded particularly appetizing, but when I asked Mom what it was she said it was just Pheasant meat under a glass dome.
Ever since then I’ve called those glass domes “pheasant-under-glasses.”
Well I’ve been getting into baking lately and I kept looking at goodwill for a pheasant under glass. I finally found one yesterday.
I made a bonnie butter cake with two layers and frosted it but it still looked pretty awful. So I stuck a plastic pear on top of it. I thought maybe the plastic pear would make it look more artistic. It helped a bit, but then the pheasant under glass didn’t fit on top of it. So I sunk the pear deep into the cake, and it made the cake fall apart even more.
It’s so weird. I never thought I was the domestic type. Amy cooked and cleaned and sewed and I hated it all.
Homemade cake is really good.