croquembouche
noun
- croquembouches
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Mary felt it. Something stupid was about to happen.
“Hey, Mary!”
She winced. She knew it was going to be something stupid. Brad hadn’t even asked her anything yet, and she knew it. Her day had instantly gotten dumber, just with his presence. Still, she put on her best fake smile and turned to face the guy.
“Hi Brad.” She purposely did not give him any opening to keep talking. It would not work, of course, but she would be damned if she gave him any excuse.
“So, you might have heard that my nephew is having a very special birthday on Saturday.”
“That’s…nice.” A pit formed in her stomach. A birthday could only mean one thing.
“Yup, sure is. Kid’s going far in life, you know? Anyway, I heard you do a bit of baking and was wondering if you can whip something up.”
“I’ll…think about it and let you know. Probably by the end of the day.” She would, of course, politely refuse. There was still plenty of time to get the kid a store-bought cake.
“That’s cool. Just know he would love to have a home-made dessert for his big seven.”
“He’s turning seven?”
Brad nodded enthusiastically. Now she wanted to bake for this party even less. A kid would be perfectly fine with a normal cake. An ice cream cake if his parents wanted to get a bit “fancy” with it. She was about to reply when something Brad had said started ringing alarm bells.
“So, Brad, what kind of cake were you thinking?”
“So you’ll do it? That’s awesome! I can’t wait to tell—”
“I didn’t say that. I asked what kind of cake your nephew wants. That’s going to play a big part in whether I agree to do this.”
“Well, my little sister wants something a little different for his party. Cakes are overdone. Anyone can make a cake.”
Mary resisted an eye roll.
“She wants something fancy. Uh, what did she call it? Croak…something.”
“Croak…something?” That feeling of dread grew. “
“Yeah. Big tower of cream puffs.”
“Croquembouche?”
“Yeah! You know what it is?”
She took a deep breath. “Brad, did you seriously just ask me to make a croquembouche for a seven-year old’s birthday party?”
“Well, he’s six and turning seven, but yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How do I feel about making one of the most technically difficult and precise French desserts in less than three days? How do you think I feel?” She made sure to add in as much of her frustration and lack of interest enter her voice as she possibly could.
“Oh, it can’t be that bad. It’s just a bunch of cream puffs.”
“A very specific type of puff pastry, arranged in a very precise way, and intricately decorated with very fine caramel threads. I could go into all the reasons why this is a difficult dessert. And I could tell you what it’s normally reserved for and why. What I will tell you is that no baker will make a full croquembouche for a kid’s birthday party. Especially not so close to said birthday party. You can ask around at any bakery in town. They’ll all say the same thing.”
“Come on, Mary. Be nice.”
“No, Brad. My answer to your request is no. Especially since I’m guessing you’d hope I would do this for free.”
Brad recoiled in shock. “Free? Absolutely not! You would be given an exclusive invitation to the greatest birthday celebration in town.”
“This party wouldn’t happen to be the one for your nephew, would it?”
“Obviously.”
“So…you want me to do a highly technical, intricate bake with very little time to spare, and the only compensation is to attend a child’s birthday party. Yeah, no. I’m not doing that. Go buy him an ice cream cake. He’ll be thrilled.”
Mary did not give Brad more time to say anything. She turned around and walked away. Hopefully by the time she got back his attention would be locked on someone else. Probably another person to try and sucker into his ridiculous baking request.
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