Tragedy in the Kitchen

I need a guardian angel. One who will protect me from myself. Who will stand between me and the measuring spoons, the mixing bowls, and the baking soda. And is not afraid to say, "back away from the oven, bitch." 

For, you see, if I had a guardian angel, I would never have attempted to make Mint Chocolate Cake Cones.

In fact, my guardian angel (let's call her "Betty"), would not have allowed me to troll for recipe ideas at www.duncan.hines.com for Becca's cookout. 

But damn it, look at how stinkin' cute they are!

And they looked easy enough. According to the directions, there was only 30 minutes of "hands on" time. Little did I know it was 30 minutes in dog years. 

Much of the hands on time involved wrapping a cupcake tin with foil, poking holes in the foil above each muffin cup, and enlarging it to the point that the ice cream cone would "just" fit through it. By the end, the cones would (theoretically) be lined up in the foil-covered tray not unlike a troop of happy soldiers. 

I got to work poking my perfect little holes, and placed a cone tightly inside each one. The first 2 or 3 were fun. But, admittedly, I got a bit sloppier as I made my way down the rows. By about the 17th hole, my little soldier cones were beginning to appear as if they had been drinking. 

Next I was to fill the cones 2/3 of the way to the top with cake batter. I carefully filled the first couple cones using a teaspoon. It took damn f-o-r-e-v-e-r. I didn't have all day, so I moved up to a table spoon... and then to a ladle. There was a tad bit of spillage, especially in the back rows; some of the soldiers not only looked inebriated, but appeared to be vomiting. 

After about 45 minutes, I carried my masterpiece to the oven. "Stand still, you guys," I ordered.  Now all I had to do was wait!

The smoke detector started buzzing about 15 minutes later. I peeked inside the oven, and much to my chagrin, I noticed many of the soldiers erupting like volcanos. I stuck a cookie sheet under the troops to catch the chocolate lava. 

When the buzzer went off, I removed my masterpiece disaster from the oven. I'm sad to report 7 casualties. The 17 survivors had nasty war wounds, but nothing that some chocolate mint frosting wouldn't hide. 

All was well until I transported my troops to the car. Apparently, one of the soldiers did not halt when I issued the command. He nudged the one in front of him, who bumped into the one on his right, who rebounded to his neighbor and... 

We were down to 10.

Wait! One landed on his feet on the garage floor (must have been a paratrooper). I blew on his boots and put him back with the other survivors. 

 It was indeed a tragedy. 24 started the battle and only 11 made it to Becca's table.

They tasted better than they looked, as do most of my kitchen experiments. 

Still, all this would have been prevented had Betty intervened. 

And whispered to me, "Publix sells excellent cupcakes".