Thanks to Mom’s culinary endeavors, our pantry is generally stocked to overflowing with nutritious and yet gourmet foods that please everyone from the youngest to the oldest. They’re designed to stretch our pallates while soothing us with a sense of the familiar. Or not.
Do we love great food? Oh yes. But we’re not that weird. Five nights out of seven, most of us would just as soon eat a grilled cheese sandwich as the gourmet meals that Mom prepares. Complete with the fake Kraft cheese. And non-organic ketchup. However, we do fully appreciate Mom’s efforts in the kitchen.

However, sometimes even the best cooks try recipes that really do go awry. One perfect example is presented by what we fondly refer to as “The Chocolate Nightmare Cake”. Her intentions were noble. It was the middle of summer, the sun was beating down, the thermometer was soaring, and bored family members aimlessly wandered the path between the garage and the living room. So Mom decided to make a sumptuous chocolate cake. This wasn’t just a plain sheet cake, either. It was the real deal.
She enhanced two white boxed cakes and created four layers of vanilla richness. Then she created a sinfully delicious milk-chocolate frosting. Emphasis on the milk. It was nothing short of fabulous. The only hitch was that, by the time she was done thickening the frosting with powdered sugar, there was about 3 gallons of the stuff. (Or should I measure that in pounds?) There was a lot. Way too much.

Ignoring that issue for the moment, Mom turned to the task at hand: applying the frosting to the cake. Have I mentioned that the kitchen was hot? The first layer went on as expected. Mom set the second cake layer on and began to frost the top. And then things started to slide downhill. Literally. The second layer started to slide off towards its impending doom.
The gravity of the situation began to dawn upon us. The frosting was melting before our eyes. Mom shoved the bowl into the fridge to chill. A few minutes later, the frosting looked stable. So Mom pulled it out and began to frost the sides. This time she moved fast. And the frosting moved faster. Drip. Drip.

And suddenly, her magnificent tower of chocolate began to look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Finally, every inch of the cake was covered in (rapidly liquifying) chocolate frosting. Mom pushed the cake into the fridge, slammed the door shut and reassessed the situation. What were we going to do with the massive amount of extra (melting) chocolate?
What are neighbors for? Mom whipped up another cake mix and slathered excess frosting on it. Then we bore it down the street and delivered with a stern warning: “This is . . . um . . . melting. You should probably put it in the fridge. Soon.”

Don’t get me wrong – the cake tasted great. And I’d love to provide you with a recipe so that you could recreate The Chocolate Nightmare for your home. Unfortunately, in the rush of rescuing the cake, Mom neglected to write the recipe down. Sadly, that recipe has disappeared from history forever.
The End.
~Emily
Emily Adams is the oldest daughter of Kathy Adams and a 2007 graduate of Belhaven College. She is a freelance writer and firmly belives that reality is funnier than fiction.