Unvulcanized Rubber

We married while we both were finishing up college.  We figured that we could actually save money by paying for one living area instead of two.  Remember, this was back in the dark ages 40 something years ago when things weren't as simple as they are now.  So we married and rented a very small house just on the edge of campus.  Money was scarce so I came upon the scheme of feeding hubby's younger brother and his roommate two meals a day for the princely sum of $7.50 each.  This sum actually about paid our food bills. (Remember, it was a long time ago.)

I had always cooked and was used to getting meals on the table, however my family consisted of one sister, mother, and dad.  I figured four is four so I continued cooking as I had at home.  I really hadn't calculated that feeding three hungry young men was a vastly different thing.  The first weeks the boys were the ideal boarders.  They showed up promptly and ate anything I put in front of them.  It was several weeks before my brother-in-law slipped up and confessed that they were going back to the dorm every night and ordering pizza!  That was when my education on feeding males really took off.  I learned a lot about how filling pasta, beans, and potatoes are.  I also learned that the number of servings a recipe makes does not mean "male" servings.

One night I decided to surprise the boys with my aunt's famous homemade, from scratch, chocolate cake.  When we married a cousin had given us a recipe shower, where each guest brings two treasured recipes for the new bride.  This cake had been my aunt's contribution and I was excited to make it for the first time.  I spent all afternoon mixing, measuring and baking.  I then frosted the two deep chocolate layers with a foamy, white frosting. 

After dinner I proudly carried the cake in and set it on the table.  It looked beautiful!  I picked up the knife and eagerly begin slicing thick chunks of cake onto the waiting plates.  I began to suspect something was wrong when the knife met a little resistance when I pushed it through the slices, but it looked fine, so I passed out the plates.  My plate was last so everyone else was chewing by the time I put my fork to mine.  I poked it.  It popped my fork right back.  I looked up to see my husband sitting with a quizzical look on his face.  My brother-in-law was chewing mightily.  His roommate was just looking at my cake and prodding it lightly with his fork.  Without missing a beat, he looked up and said, "I think you have just created unvulcanized rubber!"

He was right.  I had followed the recipe to the letter without using a bit of common sense.  My aunt had failed to include the baking powder when she copied the recipe.  I never noticed.  So what I got was a layer of cake that would rise on the steam in the baking with the rest of it cooking to a layer of "unvulcanized rubber". 

None of us ever forgot that rubber cake.  It has become a family legend.  However, what I remember most is that my husband didn't eat it, the roommate only prodded it, but my dear brother-in-law tried manfully to eat it, rather than hurt my feelings.  He was a prince.