Although I don’t remember exactly why,  the other day I thought about an incident from my childhood. Being raised in the deep South in small towns, church “dinner on the grounds” was a given. (By the way, that was when “dinner” meant lunch, and “supper” was the evening mean.) As she often did, Mother made a pound cake – she preferred the tube pan over the loaf type – and aside from the fact my brother and I knew better, it really was a tempting sight. Hey, a little pinch from the top wouldn’t really be noticeable or so it seemed. Needless to say, a pinch became more than one and the end result was quite noticeable. After the initial yelling and predictable spanking, there was the question of what to do about the cake. Rewarding us by letting us enjoy it and baking another one was either not practical or not considered. I don’t remember that part. Again, being a good Southern household, we had a store of pecans on hand. Maple syrup was not a stable, but cane syrup (dark and light) was and thus, a toasted pecan and syrup topping was whipped up, drizzled over the unsightly cake, all signs of damaged concealed. And yes, compliments on the cake were also received the next day.

That was one of life’s little lessons, in a) not always being nearly as clever as you think, and b) creativity can rectify a distressing situation at times.