Full disclosure: The older I get, the more test adverse I become.
Clarification: I’m not referring to anything medical. If a doctor says I need a test, I’ll sign up on the spot. That little dark spot on the front of my shin looks suspicious? Test it. Worried about my cholesterol? Test it. Thinking my bone density isn’t what it used to be? Test it.
The tests that give me hives fall under the category of those requiring a #2 pencil, like math tests, and science tests, and every entrance exam, ever. I get a little clammy even now, just thinking about a gymnasium, a school desk and a teacher with a timer.
Still clammy. Give me a minute.
I’m bringing this up because last week, I thought I’d found a test so easy that it would erase every bad test-taking association I’d ever had.
“But Sal,” you ask, “What kind of test could wipe clean your emotionally scarred mental slate?”
That’s easy. Last week I went out to test wedding cakes.
The way you test wedding cakes is first, you call a bakery and make an appointment for a consultation. I’m including this tidbit because I seem to be the only human in America who didn’t realize you needed an appointment to test a cake.
Three weeks later, at my appointment, I answered a series of multiple-choice questions. These are questions, by the way, I’d been studying my entire life.
Which flavor cake do you like? Chocolate? Vanilla? Red velvet? Lemon? Banana?
I like chocolate.
Which type of filling do you like? Buttercream? Chocolate ganache? Fudge? Chocolate mousse? Raspberry mousse?
I like fudge.
Which type of frosting do you like? Buttercream? Chocolate ganache? Fudge? Fondant?
I like fudge.
The consultant took my answers, offered me coffee and disappeared into the back of the bakery.
I felt confident I’d aced the test. Chocolate cake. Fudge filling. Fudge frosting.
Minutes later, out came the consultant with four pieces of sliced cake: vanilla, lemon, banana, and chocolate. Raspberry, lemon, and chocolate mousse fillings. Buttercream and fondant frostings. A single sliver — and I mean sliver — of fudge frosting lay hidden inside the single slice of chocolate cake.
“I don’t like buttercream,” I said, looking at my taste test tray.
“You can have fudge as the filling,” said the consultant. She was nice, but firm.
“What if I want fudge frosting? On the outside?”
She shook her head. “We can’t decorate using fudge. Buttercream or fondant.”
The groom shook his head. “No fondant. I don’t like it.”
In a magnanimous gesture, I had given the groom a vote. He exercised his vote as a veto, which I respect.
We left without ordering. I’m not naming the bakery, because that’s not the point.
The point is, I felt like I’d failed another test. Which is ridiculous.
I found another bakery. This time, I decided to be the one issuing the test. “Fudge-frosted wedding cake: Yes or no?”
“Yes,” they said.
They passed my test.
Sally Schwartz is a freelance columnist.
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