A Smashing Good Cake

article by Meredith McKinnie

We were assembled in a semicircle on rafts, the sun hot on our skin. Meeting for Saturday swims in my family’s pool has become a weekly ritual. The summer temps in Louisiana leave little room for any other outdoor activity apart from water submersion. My girlfriend and I were catching up on our weeks, which usually involve a lot of laughs and minor complaints. Her mother’s birthday was coming up that weekend, and she was scrambling to align her kids’ schedules to make the trek to her parent’s house for the family get-together. Her boyfriend of several years saw the familiar signs of too much stress, and thoughtfully offered to help. They agreed he could pick up the cake, a relatively simple request, but when she mentioned the details involved in choosing the cake and that it was not just an errand of retrieval, a sly smile spread across my face. I knew what was coming… a cake debacle. And in hindsight a cake will seem trivial, but in the moments of planning, anything deviating from the expected can send southern hostesses into a tailspin.

She wanted a rectangular chocolate sheet cake with white icing. He was to carry it directly from the freezer to the counter and have the decorator write “Happy Birthday, Mom.” He had no trouble selecting the cake, and placed it in the home refrigerator for my friend to see later in the day. But when she went to inspect the cake, there wasn’t much to see, as it only stretched six inches across. For her boyfriend, the size of the cake didn’t matter, and as cakes are rarely eaten in their entirety, why waste money on a larger sheet cake? But what he saw as an opportunity to purchase a more appropriate cake for the small gathering, my friend saw clearly as a smash cake, the tiny extra purchase used solely for babies and toddlers to attack with vigor from the comfort of a high chair. She couldn’t show up with a mini cake. What would her mother think? Would her dad be disappointed that it appeared she had failed to plan and rushed to buy what was left shortly before the party? And if she blamed her boyfriend, wouldn’t that be the same thing?

As she is detailing the cake debacle, I notice my husband lounging on an obnoxiously large unicorn raft nearby, seeming disinterested behind his Oakley sunglasses. He was taking a well-deserved break from entertaining the kids with water guns and big cannonball splashes for most of the afternoon, but the sly smile on his lips confirmed his eavesdropping, and he couldn’t resist the urge to chime in. He didn’t text a picture of the cake before buying it? He assumed his idea of a birthday cake was the same as yours? Amateur. My husband’s deferral to what has worked for him in these matters is clearly a result of trial and error. He forgets the time he substituted an heirloom tomato for a jar of sun-dried tomatoes or bowtie pasta when I distinctly asked for penne. He now knows the importance of sticking to the list provided by his wife, as any aversion will mean a return trip to the store. We had one mini catastrophe when I was eight months pregnant and was craving a Pepsi. He brought home a vanilla Pepsi and the pregnancy hormones erupted. He now jokingly asks if I want a Pepsi before entering a convenience store.

My friend ended up buying an ice cream cake to accompany the smash cake, and the kids loved it, her mother was celebrated, and everyone survived the cake debacle. The entire episode was reduced to a funny anecdote among friends and probably a joke between the couple. I encourage more deviations from the expected, as perfectly tailored birthday cakes are rarely appreciated to the extent they’ve been planned, and smash cakes serve the present moment more effectively. What creates a pretty picture often fails to make a good story, and stories are the fabric of a summer afternoon among friends.