Homemade

Growing up with a hired cook in Nana’s kitchen, B never learned to prepare a meal. And since her disinterest in being a housewife gave no motivation to learn, she produced children who were similarly inept chefs. The homemade cakes shared on birthdays remind us of the family’s culinary failings as our dessert either is made with rotten milk, contaminated by a fall into the sink, irrevocably stuck in the pan, or inexplicably flavored like Play-Doh. But when we do serve a store-bought cake, if we manage to avoid smashing it or letting it melt, the family seems vaguely disappointed.