Friday, 18 May 2012

Green Ribbon Friendship


(post-dated, March 17, 2012)

           It began as many subsequent Saturdays would… Kristen woke around 9am, hit snooze for an hour, went for a half-hearted run around the neighborhood, showered, and began to frantically shove clutter into the crevices of her apartment. Fortunately, she had dusted, vacuumed, and moped the week before for her sister’s visit; fortunate indeed, for Adonis himself was due to arrive at any moment.
            A purposeful 20 minutes past the agreed-upon time, Evan strolled around the corner of her house, sipping a Venti Starbucks latte, clad in pretentions – yet playful – sunglasses and a clover green polo shirt to mark the occasion. Kristen grabbed her grocery bags and the duo headed off to Harris Teeter for supplies.
            Several hours later, under Evan’s watchful eye, Kristen began to recreate the cake that she had helped her grandmother make so many times before. Substituting orange for lemon, yellow-ochre for white, Kristen prepared one box of orange cake mix, per package instructions, and divided evenly between two 9-inch round pans. As the cakes cooled, Kristen began to whisk together one cup of frozen orange juice concentrate (thawed) with one cup of confectioner’s sugar. Evan, head taste-tester and sometimes-chef, poked holes in the cakes with a fork, and Kristen drizzled the orange juice mixture evenly over the two cake layers. Kristen covered the cakes, and Evan put them in the refrigerator to set.
            Meanwhile, as Evan fired up the grill, Kristen quickly combined pork cubes, mushrooms, red peppers, and red onion onto reusable skewers. She brushed the kabobs with a mixture of olive oil, cayenne pepper, salt, lime juice, and hope, and handed them over to Evan for expert cooking over the man-fire. 


            Ten minutes later, the pair sat at the kitchen table, enjoying their Kamaraderie Kabobs and sketching design plans for the cake toping. Kristen dyed two containers of cream cheese frosting a deep green while Evan sorted the contents of a sprinkle jar into color groups. After stacking and icing the cake, Kristen rejoined Evan at the table, and the two began to decorate. As they mused about the certainty of disappointment in all of life’s endeavors and pondered imminent gloom, the new friends took turns filling in the rainbow sketch with white icing and colored sprinkles. 


            Upon completion of decoration ceremonials, it occurred to Kristen that her grandmother had only ever made this particular cake in a flat, rectangular 9x13 inch pan. Evan checked the cake, which had been placed back in the refrigerator, and confirmed that the layers were drooping and the icing was sliding off because of the high moisture content of the cake layers. Rather than despair, the friends found themselves laughing, amused by the dessert slouch and its symbolism of all of life’s efforts. 


            Much later that evening, as the faculty and doctoral students finished their St. Patrick’s Day dinner, awards and accolades were made for the most clever and festive foods. Pessimistically hopeful, yet reserved, Evan and Kristen held their breaths until a young judge announced that they had been awarded first place in the desserts category. The bounty included a green ribbon, a clover necklace, and festive temporary tattoos. Evan dashed off to the bathroom, eager to place the “Irish Princess” tattoo on the small of his back, and it occurred to Kristen that perhaps they hadn’t merely won a prize for their cake, but rather the universe had bestowed upon them first place status as a celebration of their blue ribbon friendship.  


            Evan returned, and the pair each took their first bites of cake. They smiled inwardly as it occurred to them both… this was the taste of a delectable friendship.
           
           

2 comments:

  1. hahahah. wait a minute. is there a recipe in there?

    ReplyDelete
  2. that part about making the cake and kebabs is totally sensual. totally.

    i laughed out loud many a time! :)

    ReplyDelete