Older 2 Sons were sent away; they were afraid they would not be able to cope with estrogen overload. Man of the House was caught trying to escape with them but was quickly corralled. We did, after all, still need someone to lock up the house, take the dogs out to the bathroom, and tell us where to park all the cars.
Of course, over the course of the night, there were the appropriate screeching and giggling, bursts of applause and eerie silences, bouncing and singing. Youngest Son rolled his eyes, shook his head, and said, prophetically, "I will never understand girls!" Even Youngest Daughter looked slightly askance toward the closed rec room door . . . not sure what to think of the more mature of her gender.
For my part, I just wanted to give them a yummy breakfast. There was, of course, no hidden motivation to be known as "the mom who can cook," it was all just motivated by love for Oldest Daughter and her friends . . . ahem.
The menu? Simple and straightforward . . . homemade sour cream coffee cake, turkey bacon, orange juice (the real thing!), and Swiss almond mocha coffee. Easy peasy.
Lest I disturb the cosmos by operating in any way out of the ordinary, I ran to the store that morning for my ingredients. We won't, at this time, explore that behavioral pattern any further.
I whipped out my recipe . . . last used 10 years ago.
I wanted the breakfast ready by the time the girls were up. I wanted the kitchen smelling of the heady combination of perking coffee, crisping bacon, and a cinnamon/brown sugar confection just being popped from the oven.
In the back of my head I was chanting, hurry, hurry, hurry.
I was immediately stymied by this cryptic notation on the recipe:
Excuse me? Although it may have not been baked in 10 years, there was a time in which it was baked quite regularly.
"1/" ??? Huh?
What coffee cake recipe in the whole world has a fraction of flour of any sort?
I guessed. And continued dumping ingredients.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry."
This little chant in the back of my head is also why without thinking I dumped in an entire carton of sour cream . . . 16 full, creamy ounces . . . and cheerfully set to mixing.
Then I tasted. Hmmm, not as sweet as I remembered . . . actually kind of sour . . . as if someone had put in too much . . . sour . . . cream . . .
Aha. Yes. Now the coffee cake from the "mom who can cook" had a guessed-on flour amount and double the sour cream.
I tried to increase the other ingredients proportionately.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
By some miracle, the coffee cake turned out, due more, to be sure, to the forgiving nature of those blessed ingredients flour, sugar, and butter than to any of my cooking prowess.
And as the girls came downstairs, coffee was indeed perking, crispy bacon lay in delicious repose on its plate, and an etched crystal platter held crumbling chunks of Unsure-Flour-Double-the-Sour-Cream coffee cake.
"It smells sooooooo good down here, Mrs. M.," came a sweet 17 year-old voice as 18 feet trompsed down the stairs.
Oh, yes, life is good. It's official. I'm the Mom Who Can Cook.
(Below is the real recipe for Sour Cream Coffee Cake. A good amount of sleuthing solved the flour mystery. This is a wonderfully moist and delicious coffee cake.)
Sour Cream Coffee Cake
2 cups all purpose flour
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup sour cream
2/3 cup butter, melted
2 large eggs
1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Combine first seven ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Add sour cream, butter, and eggs. Beat at low speed with an electric mixer until moistened. Beat at medium speed for 3 minutes. Spoon batter into greased and floured 9 x 13 pan. Combine remaining brown sugar and cinnamon (1/2 cup chopped pecans can also be added to this brown sugar mix). Sprinkle over batter.
At this point, the coffee cake may be baked immediately at 350 for 30 minutes, or it can be covered, refrigerated up to 12 hours, uncovered and baked at 350 for 30-35 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean.