Diane was turning thirty in August and she wanted her birthday party to be all pink. She was pregnant with a baby girl and was totally in her right to have exotic wishes.
Pink preparations started early. Her loving Mother was making thirty environment-friendly pink candles out of organic soy and fair trade bee’s wax. Candles were shaped like roses and smelled very nice. Diane’s friends were looking for pink outfits she wanted them to wear to the party. (Not everybody has pink in their possession! Vicky never wore anything of that girly color, so she had to spend some time shopping for a top she would not hate too much).
Proud Diane’s husband in pink flip-flops and polo shorts with embroidered pink flamingos was tinkering around the house, decorating it with streamers, garlands, and ribbons. Did I forget to mention their color?
Vicky, as a best friend and experienced baker, was assigned to a very important task. She had to bake a Tres Leches pink birthday cake. Diane was not a type of a person who lets things slip out of control. She found a recipe on Pinterest, printed it out on a pink paper and gave it to Vicky a week ahead. Vicky was also taking it serious. She took a day off, woke up early, and started the process. From scratch. She sifted the flour and whipped egg whites till her shoulders started hurting. But something still went wrong. The (pink!) cake layers were supposed to be thick, soft, and spongy, but they came out thin, dense, and chewy, somehow reminding of a pink shoe sole. Still edible, just not looking good at all!
“It’s ok,” told Vicky to herself, “I have all day, I can make another batch. Good, that there are three teenagers in the house, they are growing and will eat anything. It doesn’t taste too bad anyways.”
The second batch gave the same results.
“Well hell, screw it! Maybe I am not that experienced.”
Third batch was not different at all. Frustrated, Vicky cut unlucky sheet cakes to serving pieces and put them in a freezer. Family was set with desserts for weeks ahead.
She sucked up her baker’s pride and went to get a simple, humble box of white cake mix.
Layers sure came out nicely, and Vicky was ready to soak them in three kinds of milk: half and half, condensed unsweet and condensed sweet, when she discovered that her son and his friend consumed all sweet condensed milk for dessert! She sent them to get some more, and they came back laughing: “Mom, I was looking for it all over WalMart, and then I asked a sales lady, where can I get that sweet canned milk, and she asked me “Is it for cooking?” And I said, “No, it’s for eating!” Here in this country they don’t realize how good it is just with French bread!”
Finally, Vicky had everything under control. Cake was soaked overnight in three kinds of milk with a good splash of rum. Next day she decorated it with pretty little pink roses and wrote a big number 30 on top.
Cake tasted amazing and was gone in a few minutes. Every pink party guest wanted to know the recipe. Diane and Vicky mysteriously smiled and kept their silence. 
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This article was originally published in The Local Voice #211 (published August 28, 2014).
To download a PDF of this issue, click HERE.
