Confection Perfection

Taking out her purse and finding her favourite photo of Ray, she took a moment to remember why she was enrolling into culinary school in the first place. It was for Ray. It was for her son. Having raised Ray on a shoestring budget, fifteen birthdays have come and gone, but Ray had never gotten an authentic birthday cake baked by his own mother. Being a self-taught baker and cook, Maria did not just want to make some ordinary cake for her son. If she was going to make a cake for Ray, it had to be the best darn chocolate cake east of Vancouver. And so, it brought her here, at the entrance of one of the most prestigious culinary schools in the country. Having gone through the registration and paperwork online, today was the first day of classes for Maria and she eagerly walked into the state-of-the-art glass building featuring multiple levels of classrooms.

Maria didn’t know exactly when her son became so fascinated with chocolate, but she knew it had to do with his father; it reignited the memories in Ray’s mind when he would eat chocolate candies with Charles at the local park. Losing his father was exceptionally tough for Ray, as he was only a toddler then and didn’t have the vast bank of memories one expects to have with one’s father. Every time the school hosted a career day, Ray would gravitate towards the occupation he dearly wanted to be in: to be a firefighter like his dad.

Walking to the elevator that seemed to show endless reflections upon reflections, Maria pressed the button for the fifth floor and waited as the doors slowly closed, like some hungry metal monster swallowing them up. Reaching the fifth floor, she walked past several rooms, grateful that they were in numerical order, and arrived at her destination. Opening the door, a blast of bright light from the huge panes of windows glared in her eyes, and as she adjusted to the brightness of the room, she noticed several cooking stations positioned around the perimeter and in the centre as well.

“Welcome! What’s your name miss?”

“I’m Maria, Maria Gonzalez.”

“Welcome Maria, I’m Bertha, or you can call me Missus B. Please sit at a workstation and we’ll get started in a few minutes after the stragglers settle in.”

Looking around the class, Maria noticed that most of the students were far younger than her, and were mostly girls, other than several obese men who looked every part the jolly, round bakers. Taking out her notepad, Maria began taking notes from Bertha’s instructions, and paid particular attention to the measurements required for baking a moist, chocolate cake. As soon as the verbal instruction was over, the students tried their hands at making the cake, all under the watchful eye of their instructor.

Maria was mixing her cake batter in a bowl using her ladle when Missus Bertha showed her the mixing machine, which would make a smoother consistency and free up time for her to make the chocolate icing and garnishes. Heating up a pot of water and putting a bowl of baking chocolate on top, she swirled it around till the chocolate melted and after adding icing sugar, she put it aside and checked on her cake, which was baking in the middle rack of the oven.

Hearing the timer ring, Maria opened the oven and was met with a gust of hot air that smelled of cocoa and cooked cake batter. Using her oversized oven mitts, she pulled out the mold and set it on the cooling rack. Looking at the top of the cake, Maria was dismayed to see a large crack had formed, splitting her cake like a fissure in the ground.

Walking around the room to check on her student’s cakes, Missus Bertha offered advice and praise for the studying bakers and eventually arrived at Maria’s station.

“Hmm, the colour of the cake looks beautiful Maria, but you used too high a temperature for the oven, so that’s why there’s a large crack on the top. Next time, turn down the temperature a bit and it’ll be perfect.”

Practicing spreading the chocolate icing over the top and sides of the cake, she covered the ugly crack and smoothed it out with a scraper. Taking a large knife, she cut a small portion out and ate it, approving of the moist, chocolatey taste of the sponge and the sweetness of the icing.

After class, Maria drove back home in her SUV, weaving in and out of traffic to find the fastest route home. She knew that Ray would be home by now, probably working on his homework and looking forward to a hearty meal. After dinner, she figured, there would be time to continue practicing baking, although she would have to do without the fancy kitchen gadgets in the school kitchen.

Parking precariously next to an oversized cedar tree, Maria got out and entered the house, smelling the familiar air freshener that always reminded her of home.

“Ray! Ray? Are you home?”

Not hearing a reply, she walked up the stairs to his room and knocked, after which Ray opened the door and too off his headphones.

“What’s up mom? How was the first day of school?”

“It was just fine honey. Pretty soon I’ll be able to bake that perfect chocolate cake for you son.”

“Mom, you don’t need to make a perfect one. Any cake will do for me. It’s the effort you put into it that matters to me. So even if it’s the ugliest cake out there, I’d still be happy you made it for me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m going to get started on dinner, so come on down in about thirty minutes, okay?”

Heading back downstairs, she turned on the kitchen lights and got to work preparing their supper; it would be their main meal as they both hardly ate breakfast and almost never ate lunch. Taking out some ground beef, she cooked it in a large pan, spreading out the meat to make sure it cooked thoroughly before flipping the meat over. While the meat was cooking, she assembled the ingredients needed for tacos, including salsa, shredded cheese, and the finished browned beef. Lining up the crispy shelled tortillas in a row standing on their own, she spooned out the beef mixture, added the mild salsa and topped it off with cheese before putting everything in the oven for a quick toast. Once the cheese was melted, she took the tacos out and called for Ray to come down for dinner.

Watching her son take a sideways bite to the delicious tacos, she chuckled and handed him a napkin to clean the side of his mouth which had decided to hold onto a little bit of the salsa. Maria did no fare much better, getting melted cheese on her shirt before grinning sheepishly at her son, embarrassed by her messiness. When the dinner was finished, Ray helped bring the plates to the sink, and they began washing them in soapy, warm water.

When they finished clearing off everything, Maria thanked Ray and watched as he walked back upstairs to his room. Taking advantage of her son’s absence, Maria began assembling everything she needed to bake another chocolate cake. Without the mechanical mixer, she had to combine the batter together with her ladle, and pretty soon, her arms were sore from furiously mixing the ingredients together till they were smooth. Preheating the oven to four hundred degrees Fahrenheit, she poured the batter into a mold and placed it carefully into the oven. After a nervous thirty-five minutes waiting for the cake to finish, Maria slowly took it out and was instantly disappointed seeing that there was still a small crack in the top of the cake. Shaking her head at herself, she threw out the newly baked cake and began to wash everything while grumbling at her incompetency. She figured there would be time tomorrow to practice again, but she also realized her son’s birthday was only several days away.

Night after night, Maria tried her best to bake the perfect chocolate cake, but each time, her hopes were dashed as every cake turned out flawed and imperfect, especially on the outside.

When Ray’s birthday did come, Maria ended up buying an ice-cream cake for her son, much to the surprise and disappointment of her now sixteen-year-old.

“Mom, I thought you were going to make me a chocolate cake?”

“Sorry Ray, I couldn’t make a perfect one that I could be proud of to give to you. I want you to have the absolute best.”

“Don’t stress yourself out mom! Oh, and by the way, Will’s mom is coming to pick me up; we’re heading over to the laser tag arena for a couple games. Is that okay mom?”

“It’s fine with me Ray, have fun, okay? You deserve a good time for your birthday.”

As her son left the house for the arena, Maria decided to try to bake the cake one more time to hopefully present it to her son on his birthday. Mixing the ingredients with a loving heart and tireless dedication, she poured out the batter and placed the mold in the oven again for the millionth time and turning down the heat a bit, she watched as the batter baked ever so slowly, making a beautiful crust on the top. Taking out the mold, she removed the metal casing carefully and realized that she had done it. This was the perfect cake that she was looking forward to making for the past several days.

Spreading the chocolate icing carefully over the surface, she placed the perfect cake on a cake stand and moved it to the dinner table, eager to surprise her son with her loving gift.

As she sat admiring the cake’s perfection, she got a call on her phone, with news that shocked her very core.

“Hello? Is this Ray’s mother? This is Green Timbers Hospital. Your son was in a car accident and he’s in critical condition right now awaiting surgery.”

Dropping her phone in disbelief, she picked it back up again while hurrying to her SUV and heading off to the hospital as fast as she could. Arriving at the ER, she asked the receptionist where Ray was held and she rushed inside eventually reaching Ray’s room. When she saw her son, she froze, then began moving ever so slowly towards the damaged body, wrapped in bandages and connected to a ventilator machine helping him breath. Stroking his hair with a shaking hand, Maria thought back to when her husband also was in the hospital.

“Charles, you can’t leave us. How am I going to raise our son alone? Please, you have to get better. Please.”

“I’m sorry Maria…tell Ray that I’m proud of him as my son. Don’t cry Maria…”

Shaking her head back to the present, she kept stroking Ray’s hair, talking to him even though he couldn’t hear or understand her words.

“Bud, you’ll never guess what I made back at home. I finished it. The perfect chocolate cake for your birthday. If only you could see it my boy.”

As she watched her son slip away into deep slumber, she regretted not giving her son a slightly imperfect cake, as that would be better than no cake at all. In the back of her mind, she remembered her son’s advice for her: Mom, you don’t need to make a perfect one. Any cake will do for me. It’s the effort you put into it that matters to me.

Realizing that she had missed her only chance to bake a cake for Ray, tears began streaming down her cheeks onto Ray’s lifeless hands. And at home, stood the prettiest birthday cake east of Vancouver, but without a recipient to receive it.

The End