Monday, December 26, 2011

Just a trifle of trouble

As the designated baker and master of all things sweet in our family, I am traditionally responsible for the family's Christmas dessert.

Cupcakes for Mr von S's family Christmas
After baking for almost four hours straight to make Christmas cupcakes for Mr von Strudel's family Christmas Eve, I couldn't bring myself to do it all again for my own family. So I settled with an old Christmas favourite: trifle.

It's been a couple of years since I last made trifle, and with most of my possessions still in storage, my old faithful trifle bowl was out of action. Using something similar, but with less volumetric capacity, I layered my sponge rolls (after soaking them in cider!) with jelly, cherries and custard until I reached the very brim of the bowl. Thinking that some of the liquid would soak into the sponge, I covered the bowl with cling wrap and put it in the fridge to set.

Christmas morning arrived and I rushed to grab all my bits and pieces, loaded up the car and hit the road, destined for my Mum's place in Mount Martha.

Trifle on the passenger seat with my belt positioned to make it level (I was in such a rush I didn't put my belt on. In fact, that belt never actually made it on...) I cruised along the freeway with my festive Christmas CD blaring, singing along to the Bub. As I got closer to Frankston, traffic grounded to a halt as everyone headed for the coast struggled through a bottleneck. A trip which usually takes 50 minutes was already ticking on past 70.

Reaching a break in the traffic, I zoomed around the first in a series of roundabouts, feeling like I'd been released from my traffic jam shackles. Then I remembered the trifle. Taking a look down I could see custard fighting its way past the cling wrap, fighting for its freedom from the bowl! Grabbing my handy pocket pack of tissues, I swabbed at the breakaway custard while keeping an eye on the road.

Only ten minutes remained in my journey, so I glanced down at the trifle again, only to see more rogue custard dripping down the bowl onto the car seat. Panicking, I pulled over, grabbing handfuls of tissues and surrounded the disappearing trifle. With indicators on and distracted by the issue at hand, I didn't see the car waiting behind me until they sped past with an angry toot. With tissue stuck to my hand, I waved at them yelling 'can't you see I'm having a custard crises?!' And a merry Christmas to you too!

Despite losing some of the custard to the car seat, I finally managed to get to my Mum's where I was welcomed with open arms, a damp cloth and paper towel.

Merry Christmas to you all!


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