I mentioned in yesterday's post that the reason I'd been standing in the fresh-cut grass on Friday was to talk to my grandson. The main thing I wanted to ask him about, the thing that had aroused my curiosity enough to ignore the grass pollen, was his rumored participation in an upcoming bake-off.
This young man, who towers over me now, spends a huge portion of his time on the sports field, football and baseball mostly, but from the time he was just a little guy, he's had an interest in cooking, too. I dearly love a man who can cook, and we have several in our family now.
The story my grandson told me is that his sister and her fiance were discussing which of the two of them could make the best dessert, and that discussion led to one challenging the other to a bake-off. My grandson, never one to leave his two cents' worth out of a good discussion, ended up with an invitation to put up or shut up. And that's why my older daughter, his aunt, ran into him at the grocery store the other day when he was purchasing "practice" ingredients.
I missed the bake-off, but I talked with my younger daughter, his mom, a few minutes ago, and she gave me the play-by-play. Three judges had been selected ahead of time. Apparently, they took their job seriously. They used pads and pencils to make notes as they sampled the various entries, and they discussed among themselves the specific flavors they tasted in each dish.
Here are the final results:
My granddaughter, who served tiramisu, topped with shaved chocolate, in martini glasses, won first prize for presentation.
Her fiance served a triple-chocolate cake and won first prize for taste.
My grandson would have won, the judges agreed, except that he accidentally left the eggs out of his white-chocolate cake, leaving it rather flat and crumbly.
Never give up, big boy. There's always next year.