Bake Sale Lesson Learned
I learned something this weekend. Bake sales aren’t competitions.
I swallowed that tough pill at the Haiti bake sale yesterday, as I saw my winning cupcakes get shoved under a table because it was already jam packed with the cakes and cookies of the million other people who baked to help the people of Haiti. Clearly everyone’s a baker at a time like this–or so they think. I had spent all day Saturday and early Sunday traversing greater LA in search of fresh passion fruit (West Hollywood Pavilions) and edible flowers (Hollywood Farmers Market, wish I had noted the stand) so that they would be the perfect combo of taste and style. But by the time I arrived (note to self: arrive 2 hours before the designated drop off time), the table was like the Arclight parking lot on the opening night of Avatar. My dolled-up cupcakes were relegated to the hot sidewalk underneath, likely to emerge hours later in a puddle of melted buttercream and dead flowers. They had fallen victim to the overwhelming goodwill of the people of LA. I had no choice but to lurk nearby and keep a close eye on the situation, like a mother waiting for her kid to get picked for a kickball team.
The situation only deteriorated as my irresistible cupcakes got buried underneath every late arrival of scraggly-edged Saran-wrapped brownies.
“How could a person hand over those indecent brownies with a straight face?” I growled.
“It’s just a bake sale. That’s the kind of thing people make,” Steve told me.
People not enjoying my cupcakes.
“Uh, no. It’s not like when we were kids, Steve. This is the age of the Food Network.” Or at least that’s what I tried to tell myself as yet another person arrived with yet another batch of cupcakes fit only for a preschool graduation party. Jeez, the people of Haiti were really going to make out on this one.
“It’s the thought that counts, Sarah.”
“Oh yeah, well here’s a thought. I’m going to take my cupcakes back and sell them across the street at my own bake sale. What do you think about that? I bet the people of Haiti would appreciate that!”
Relax. I didn’t do that.
Instead, I got in line and bought every single dried out brownie and vegan whoopie pie on an area of the table “perfectly big enough to welcome my remarkable cupcakes,” I pointed out to someone in charge.
That didn’t happen either. (But I wish I had thought of it at the time because it just could have been a win-win.)
My cupcakes before the event.
My cupcakes at the event.
Finally, I just whispered some encouraging words to my cupcakes so they wouldn’t have a meltdown, and I went home and quietly devoured the Duncan Hines brownie I bought to support the people of Haiti.
Bake Sale Lesson #1: No one is going to publicly acknowledge you for going all out and making cupcakes with fresh fruit and schmancy buttercream. A batch of brownies from the box will raise the same amount of dough for the cause. I suppose the people of Haiti aren’t going to be picky about the quality of baked good involved in rebuilding their country.
P.S. The bake sale raised $5000 for Haiti Relief. In the end, my cupcakes were honored to be a part of it.
After all that crying, I have been informed by an insider that my babies did, in fact, make it on the table. Here’s evidence.
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