Carrot Cake
Sunday my father in law was over. He spent most the afternoon resting in the recliner. After a pretty good dinner (well, yeah, I cooked it) I thought he was ready to go back to the rehabilitation center. He was tired, his oxygen level was low, and everything indicated he needed to get back. So, I casually asked, “Vic, you ready to go?” To my surprise, he answered no.
Except for the time when he was kicked out, which highly irritated him, Vic has been attending cooking class at the rehabilitation center. I assumed he was kicked out for using too much cinnamon. As it turns out, he forgot to sign up. He is now back in good standing with the cooking class and can attend every week without signing up. Following cooking class, he always gives me the recipe.
He didn’t want to leave Sunday night because he thought we should make carrot cake from the recipe at the rehabilitation center! My wife thought it would be a good time to go for a walk with a neighbor. I’m happy. Actually, I am exhaust but hey, you want to make carrot cake – let’s make carrot cake.
Vic immediately defined the roles. He would read the instructions and I would do what he said (did I happen to mention he is my father in law?). He studied that recipe. He might have memorized it. Soon he started talking, “Grate three cups of carrots and place them in a bowl with . . . .” Hold on. Hold on. I don’t know how fast they work at the rehabilitation center but it takes me a few minutes to peel and grate carrots.
Before long the carrot cake was in the oven, the kitchen could have been declared a disaster area, and I was probably sweating like a pro basketball player who had just played the entire game. I’m ready for a rest. “What about the frosting?” asked Vic. Frosting? Frosting? That cake will take an hour to bake, he’s low on oxygen - I’ll make it later. “I don’t know,” replied Vic, “I think we need to make the frosting, that’s what they did in cooking class.” More bowls were placed on the counter (actually the last of the clean bowls). A few minutes later, we had cream cheese frosting. Vic thought we needed to try it. Come to find out Vic really, really, likes cream cheese frosting. After tasting a spoonful or two, he declared it to be okay. He also made the determination he had better head back to the center. The carrot cake still had about thirty minutes to cook and had to cool before being topped with the award winning frosting.
The following morning at four o’clock what do you think I was doing? Yep, putting the frosting on the carrot cake so he could have it with his lunch.
I had to leave town for a few days, so Charlene took some cake over to him. He shared it with his entire table. It was a hit. Later, when back in town, I stopped by to see him. Everyone was still talking about Vic’s carrot cake.
I just ate a piece of it. It is good.
Except for the time when he was kicked out, which highly irritated him, Vic has been attending cooking class at the rehabilitation center. I assumed he was kicked out for using too much cinnamon. As it turns out, he forgot to sign up. He is now back in good standing with the cooking class and can attend every week without signing up. Following cooking class, he always gives me the recipe.
He didn’t want to leave Sunday night because he thought we should make carrot cake from the recipe at the rehabilitation center! My wife thought it would be a good time to go for a walk with a neighbor. I’m happy. Actually, I am exhaust but hey, you want to make carrot cake – let’s make carrot cake.
Vic immediately defined the roles. He would read the instructions and I would do what he said (did I happen to mention he is my father in law?). He studied that recipe. He might have memorized it. Soon he started talking, “Grate three cups of carrots and place them in a bowl with . . . .” Hold on. Hold on. I don’t know how fast they work at the rehabilitation center but it takes me a few minutes to peel and grate carrots.
Before long the carrot cake was in the oven, the kitchen could have been declared a disaster area, and I was probably sweating like a pro basketball player who had just played the entire game. I’m ready for a rest. “What about the frosting?” asked Vic. Frosting? Frosting? That cake will take an hour to bake, he’s low on oxygen - I’ll make it later. “I don’t know,” replied Vic, “I think we need to make the frosting, that’s what they did in cooking class.” More bowls were placed on the counter (actually the last of the clean bowls). A few minutes later, we had cream cheese frosting. Vic thought we needed to try it. Come to find out Vic really, really, likes cream cheese frosting. After tasting a spoonful or two, he declared it to be okay. He also made the determination he had better head back to the center. The carrot cake still had about thirty minutes to cook and had to cool before being topped with the award winning frosting.
The following morning at four o’clock what do you think I was doing? Yep, putting the frosting on the carrot cake so he could have it with his lunch.
I had to leave town for a few days, so Charlene took some cake over to him. He shared it with his entire table. It was a hit. Later, when back in town, I stopped by to see him. Everyone was still talking about Vic’s carrot cake.
I just ate a piece of it. It is good.
posted by Ralph at 12:55 PM
3 Comments:
Vic is very lucky his daughter had the good sense to marry you. :0)
Aravisarwen I agree with you.
Hi Ralph,
I'm sure I read this post much closer to when you posted it, but I think it was when Blogger wouldn't let comments be posted by many of us.
I stopped here to re-read it, since I've read the rest of your blog and I wanted to visit with Vic. I'd enjoy sharing yummy carrot cake with you, him, your wife, and family. I must have Father's Day on my mind, as June approaches, missing my grandpa and my father. I enjoyed re-reading this. Almost felt like Vic was patting my shoulder. Sounds like such a good man.
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