Our ten year old, Rylie, got her first baking "order" last week. It was for a wedding cake. Let me back up.  

 My mom, who used to shoo me out of the kitchen, found out that Rylie had a newfound interest in baking a few months ago.   Over Spring Break she gave Rylie an early birthday present (five months early). Rylie opened up a box to find a cake decorating book and a set of decorating tips. That gift, and having grandmas who let her in the kitchen, was all it took to turn Rylie's interest into an obsession. 

She took her cake book to school two weeks ago. As soon as she got in the car she announced that she'd secured several cake orders from her friends including one for a wedding. I neither wanted to dash her hopes, nor bolster them. I told her a rule of thumb for following through with an order would be getting an adult confirmation first. I thought that would nip this cake order thing. 

So imagine my surprise when I got a text followed by a call this week for Rylie to make a wedding cake. An excited lady, who's saying "I do" this afternoon, asked if this was "the Rylie's mom who bakes cakes". I wasn't sure how to answer that question. 

I let her know that Rylie cooks just for fun. I wondered if I should tell her that I'd burned two loaves of garlic bread hours earlier in the afternoon; that I'm not much help. I suggested that Rylie and the lady's daughter make a wedding celebration cake for fun some time, but she insisted that a wedding cake made by two fourth graders (one her own) would be special.

 (I've written several posts about my difficulty in taking risks. "I'm trying to do better, to allow my kids room to try new things, to make mistakes. But this?".....I thought. "Too far!")

But I said "ok" like I usually do. "Sounds great," I replied, even though my stomach instantly knotted. 

A wedding cake plan, last night, turned into a successful cake, coral and teal cupcakes and a sleepover. 

  
I learned, AGAIN, that God's plans are better than mine. I was reminded not to underestimate a ten year old with an entrepreneurial spirit. And I learned a secret that cakes have in common with imperfect people like me. 

The Crumb Coat

With Rylie having an important order to make I called my friend Christine immediately to ask her for a few tips.  Christine told me about the base icing layer called the crumb coat. I smiled when she explained how to make your cake appear crumb-less. (One of the reasons I'd given up on cakes is because I dislike the crumbs that muddle my cake's exterior). 

I learned that the "crumb coat" is the layer that's first applied to the cake. The crumb coat fills in the gaps and gives the cake its shape. 

It bears up the crumbs and holds them. This allows the top layer of icing to appear smoother, cleaner and altogether more lovely. 

  
 As Christine explained the "crumb coat" I found comfort in the fact that the crumb problem isn't unique. Whether you see it or not, cakes, like people, tend to be a little messy underneath. Crumbs can't be prevented. Not with the keenest eye, the steadiest hand nor the most disciplined nature can we assure that all traces of crumbs are gone. 

That shouldn't stop us from making our cake into something beautiful, something to be shared.  The intention of the covering is not to hide a secret. The crumb layer isn't our best layer, but we accept that it is one of the layers. Crumbs don't make cake, less of a cake, rather they're part of the cake.

 I learned to trust the cake maker to do the work to make the crumb-filled cake into something beautiful. And with loving hands, He always does.