The Cake Disaster of 2011 - Part Two

Picking up where I left off: I had just made all the layers for my cake and the marshmallows were toasted to perfection. After creaming the said marshmallows together with fluff, butter, sugar and a little vanilla extract, I was ready to slap that sticky stuff on the layers. 

Let me tell you, dear reader, the layering was going absolutely wonderfully. Sure the cake was a little crumbly and moist, the layers weren't completely straight across, but they were getting stacked! One layer. Two layers. Three layers. Four layers. Fantastic. I felt so pleased with my results that I turned around to finish my last step of the process, whipping up the outside icing. The recipe called for a malted frosting with Ovaltine mixed in. However, I am not the hugest fan of malt flavor. Instead I simply substituted the Ovaltine for cocoa powder. The result was a divine frosting.

The frosting was great, life was great. It was only eleven thirty, I had plenty of time to sleep that night. Life was just peachy. 

Then I turned around.

To this:

My stacked cakes were literally falling apart. The marshmallow frosting was out of control and destroying the cakes with its sticky vengeance. All I had wanted was for everyone to get along and love each other, and this is what happens. You really can't trust marshmallows sadly. As soon as I turned around I dashed across the kitchen to try and save my "leaning tower of Pisa". It was pretty much to no avail. Chunks of cake had come undone, and the tower of chocolatey goodness was tottering. I tried pushing it so it would mostly stand up, but it looked pretty horrendous.

There was only one thing to do. Frost over the entire thing so it would look like nothing had ever happened. I am pretty sure that this is the secret of all great bakers. Julia Child would be proud.

I forgot to get a picture of the cake unwrapped that evening, but this basically shows how unstable this enormous beast was that evening. I went to bed thinking, 'If the cake falls over, it falls over. My parents can discover the mess is the morning'. My spirits were not crushed as the whole ordeal was comical to say the least. 

Aghast at the amount of cake in their kitchen that Saturday, many of my family members departed their wisdom to me. "That is way too much cake. We need to give some away." Such wisdom and understanding. By Sunday afternoon the cake was absolutely gone. I didn't even have to shove it down anyones throat. I barely managed to grab a piece for my coworkers.