Page 82 of Only for the Season
Oh, right. I need a pan. I scan the room. There are pans everywhere. Of every shape and size. What size do I need?
I re-read the recipe but it doesn’t mention anything about a pan size. I shrug. I guess it doesn’t matter. I pour the batter into a sheet pan.
Wait. The recipe said ‘prepared’ pan. What does ‘prepared’ mean?
Grease and flour the pan.Uh oh. I skipped that line.
Oh well. The batter is in the pan now. I slide the pan into the oven.
There. All I need to do now is clean up and Parker will arrive tomorrow morning to a wonderful surprise. And then she’ll forgive me. I hope.
The door bangs open and Parker stomps inside. “What in the name of the mermaids in the sea is happening here?”
I gesture to the oven. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Obvious?” She lifts a brow. “The oven isn’t on.”
“Shit. The recipe didn’t say to switch on the oven.”
“Really? There wasn’t any mention of pre-heating the oven.”
“Preheat? You have to preheat the oven?”
She marches to the oven and peers inside. She flinches at the view before clearing her throat. “If you don’t preheat the oven, the cake will bake unevenly.”
“Okay. Let me remove the cake and preheat the oven.”
“There’s no need.”
“No need?”
She points to the oven. “Whateverthatis should probably be thrown away.”
I scowl. “It’s cake batter. I mixed it myself.”
“That much is obvious,” she mutters before raising her voice. “If you need a cake, I’ll bake you one in the morning.”
“I don’t want you to bake me a cake. I want to bake you a cake.”
“But I’m a baker.”
“Who loves chocolate.” She blinks in confusion at me and I sigh. “I’m trying to apologize.”
“With lumpy, uncooked chocolate cake batter?”
“It’s not lumpy. I mixed it for twice as long as the recipe said to ensure there were no lumps.”
She shivers. “Twice as long? We’re definitely throwing the batter away.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s wrong with mixing twice as long?”
“Overmixing the batter causes it to develop too much gluten, which creates a tough, dense cake.”
“This is not working out the way I intended.” I run a hand through my hair and Parker giggles.
“You have flour in your hair.”
“You could have pretended not to notice,” I mutter.
