Things Taste Sweeter with Sugar

I have always liked sweets and sweet things. Though I preferred the eating part to the making part. So I either always bought baked goods or ate things that someone else had made.

Mother was a good cook, and an even better baker. So these past few days, a week or so, my mother had been my victim.

She has been trying to bake cinnamon rolls for a friends’ birthday, though she was unsuccessful. Every time they came out of the oven they were hard and disheveled, much different from the first time she made them, soft, fluffy, and sweet. She grew more and more frustrated within these past few days. She seemed to be at her breaking point.

“I swear, I’m about to cry,” She said after pulling out her most recent batch of rolls.

And I was left with disappointment once more, unable to score those warm goods I’ve been craving all week. “Maybe you just forgot something, or added too much,” I suggested from behind the kitchen counter.

She heaved a sigh, putting down the oven mitts. “I checked and rechecked the recipe– I’ll just make her a regular cake or something for her birthday.”

I almost groaned. If she made a cake I wouldn’t get to have any. I mean, who would want a birthday cake with a slice taken out of it? And of course, I would take the blame (something I seriously don’t want.) Which is why I would much rather have her bake the cinnamon rolls, I could have some, and the birthday recipient would never have to know.

“Why don’t you just try one more time, and like, really look at the recipe. I can help if you want.” It was a reluctant offer- I did not want to bake at all. But it looked like she could use the help. It wasn’t until the next day when she made another attempt.

I stood awkwardly in the kitchen with an apron that was forced on me- I wasn’t in here to cook often. It was fairly simple at the beginning, some kind of special flour, a little salt and sugar– My face contorted as I stuck my sugar covered finger in my mouth.

Oh.

“Hey. The sugar.” She said.

I quickly grabbed a water bottle from the counter, downing it. I ended up coughing from drinking too fast. “What- what’s wrong?” She asked, concerned.

I stumbled over my thoughts for a minute. Do I tell her? Do I stay quiet and let her failure continue? Should I say that I was the one who did it? That when I was supposed to replace the sugar I accidentally used salt? No way was I going to admit fault, that was a stupid thing to do. And I wouldn’t want to be blamed for all of her baking mishaps in the past week. But this was probably the last chance for her to bake before the birthday. So what should I do? Who should I prioritize? I cleared my throat, my thoughts were all jumbled together, so I just spoke.

“That’s the sugar you’ve been using? That salt.” She stared at me in shock, as I prepared myself. But then she laughed.

She laughed so hard she was folded over, and had to hold onto the kitchen counter. Was it funny..? I couldn’t admit that it was my fault, despite her not seeming angry or upset. There was still a chance she could get mad after finding out it was my fault. Especially since there was only so much time for her to complete this task. That she could have avoided all of this if it hadn’t been for me. I mean, I could try to convince her that the salt wasn’t the only problem. But it seemed pretty clear that it was. She was a good baker, I assumed she hadn’t made any other mistakes. In fact- she didn’t make any mistakes, I did. I wasn’t one for guilt, but when it comes to the people I love, it becomes much more complicated in my mind.

I waited for her to calm down, and then I confessed. “Mom, I did it. By accident though, I swear!”

She gave me a look, “Huh? What do you mean.”

I regretted my decision to confess. If I hadn’t said anything, everything would still be okay. “You told me to change the sugar not that long ago.. So I guess I accidentally replaced the sugar with salt.” I swallowed, but I could feel the tears from my throat. But surprisingly, she laughed again.

“Gosh! Honey, I’m not mad. It was a simple mistake! And now I know I don’t have some kind of baking curse! It’s okay, alright?”

I tied to swallow my tears, but the feeling didn’t go away. She pulled me in close for a hug, and then we continued onward. It was a silly mistake that I made. And I feel stupid for not confessing it earlier. I should’ve known that my mother, someone who loved me dearly, would not blame me for something so little, an accident especially.

And this time, the cinnamon rolls turned out perfectly. I think using sugar instead of salt made everything just a bit sweeter.

“Vegan Pumpkin Cinnamon rolls” by Veganbaking.net is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.