As Murphy had aptly put it, “What can go wrong, will go wrong”, and I guess Murphy was knocking on my door that fateful day when the mixer finally died on me. I was baking, or rather, attempting to bake my very first chocolate spongecake for the mother’s birthday, when the mixer started sounding like something off a Robitussin cough mixture advertisement, I kid you not. Having given up on the cake that day, I assured myself that all the mixer needed and probably badly yearned for, was just a good rest.
And so, I was at it again a couple of days later, for a 100 cupcake order. While rushing home from work to start baking, I thought to myself in the comforts of the backseat of the cab, with three huge plastic bags of baking supplies in hand, what would happen to the mixer:-
- the mixer would have had enough rest by now, and would cooperate with me, in true-blue fairytale-esque fantasy;
- the mixer should be able to work this time round, because I suspect that the store-bought spongecake mixture was much too thick for it to churn and mix around, and so, there shouldn’t be any problem with beating the oft-used cupcake batter now;
- i would have to look for Captain Hook’s forearm over at Ebay/Etsy, and somehow affix it onto my own, and add in some Duracell bunny batteries, and let it go vroooooooom!
As luck were to have it, none of the above happened. There was no way of resuscitating the mixer, and I was too pressed for time to get help from Hook. A quick call to the mister got me reacquainted with my very first butter cupcake recipe that needed a mere throw-in-everything take to it.
But all’s not lost, since I’m done mourning whining over the death of the mixer (I didn’t exactly mourn, because the mixer wasn’t mine to begin with, hence the lack of emotional attachment) and have moved on to greener pastures. One with waffling banana aroma, and speckled with chocolate tease.
