Nazy was busy preparing for the annual holiday party. Already finished decorating the house, she was cooking. The ensuing discussion was reprise from the year before:
“I’m afraid we won’t have enough food,” Nazy declared.
“Why? Did you invite the Russian Army?” I could barely see Nazy over mountains of food.
“Dan..”
“Or the Chinese masses?”
“My pumpkin cake broke. It pulverized.”
“So? The guests will just have to subsist on the roast beef, potato salad, salmon, chips, ham, crackers, pecans, pistachios, shrimp, grapes, cheese, cookies, candy…”
“I followed the directions explicitly, Dan. The Joy of Cooking said to balance the angel food cake pan on a wine bottle,” Nazy continued, pointing to a picture.
“I’m afraid we won’t have enough food,” Nazy declared.
“Why? Did you invite the Russian Army?” I could barely see Nazy over mountains of food.
“Dan..”
“Or the Chinese masses?”
“My pumpkin cake broke. It pulverized.”
“So? The guests will just have to subsist on the roast beef, potato salad, salmon, chips, ham, crackers, pecans, pistachios, shrimp, grapes, cheese, cookies, candy…”
“I followed the directions explicitly, Dan. The Joy of Cooking said to balance the angel food cake pan on a wine bottle,” Nazy continued, pointing to a picture.
“Hmm..” I replied (thoughtfully). “It looks pretty dangerous to me.”
“I probably shouldn’t have greased and floured the pan,” Nazy said. “I was going to paste it together with cream cheese icing..”
“Don’t’ worry, my dear. We’ll have pumpkin crumble cake.”
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