It's so sweet! Congratulations to our February Writing Challenge Winners

It's time to recognize the winners of the SCWC February Writing Challenge.

The challenge?

To write a story (either true or fictional--your choice) about your favorite sweet treat.

We had a blast reading all of the delicious submissions to the contest, and are excited to recognize our top winners. (The lovely irony that each story--one fictional, two other true ones--revolved around cake was a "cherry on top," so to speak. Reading different takes on cake was our real treat.)

Congratulations to our top three winers:

1st place: Karin Cooper
2nd place: Gail Landraf
3rd place: Victoria Cole

We hope you enjoy reading these three wonderful stories, and don't forget to submit to next month's challenge. (Want to keep with our monthly challenges? Join and stay active in our SCWC Facebook group, where we post daily about activities, events, challenges and much more. Our challenges are also posted in our submission calls at "The Ready Writer.")

"The Sacred Cake Bite"

by Karin Cooper

Do you like cake?

Would you take a bite of a wedding cake sample that predicts your true eternal love?

The question sparked animated reactions among my girlfriends gathered around our coffees and teas at lunch. Like a symphony warming up with scattered sounds, laughter, guffaws and thoughtful pauses followed.

Whispers shared secrets about a bakery nestled in the mountains where a baker crafted a celestial cake with frosting that shimmered like starlight. Engaged couples struggled to secure a sampling appointment, competing for the rare slots. Rumors floated about an angel baker, though no customer had ever glimpsed celestial wings behind the counter.

Each cake story started like a game of telephone among my friends. Always second- and third-hand anecdotes. A coworker's sister's best friend went with her fiancé to taste the cake. One bite, and the couple locked eyes. The sweetness curdled on their tongues, turned to bitters. They broke up immediately. Years later, they still couldn't stomach cake. Or each other.

"Yuck," we all said, reaching for our drinks, agreeing it’s not worth never having cake again.

Then a cousin's neighbor's daughter lucked into a booking. She closed her eyes, savoring that first heavenly bite. The texture was like sinking into velvet cream, she said. But when she opened her eyes, her fiance's face had changed. "I can't go through with this wedding," he told her right there that he didn't love her. She was shattered.

"He probably just used the cake tasting as an excuse," we reasoned, exchanging knowing glances. "A convenient rationale—it worked as an out for either or both of the couples." We nodded our heads in perfect unison.

Even a health-conscious couple from the gym encountered the celestial cake. Though none of us could pinpoint exactly who this calorie-counting duo was, we'd heard they survived the tasting only to ban all desserts from their wedding reception. "Against their eating ethics," one friend explained with air quotes. "No cake at all."

"Who wants to go to a wedding without cake?" I asked. We concurred guests come to see the dress but stay for a slice of cake.

Around the table, opinions divided like perfect slices. Some friends boasted they'd take the challenge, certain their relationships could weather any supernatural confection. The divorced ones wished they'd had the chance to sample before their first weddings. The romantics insisted true love couldn't be canceled by mere cake.

Nervously twisting my engagement ring, I tried to be unobtrusive as I reflected on five beautiful years of falling in love with Luke.

We shared intimate confidences. On autumn Sundays, Luke prayed a moment longer for his Cowboys' victory. He'd tease my love for white cake while saving every rose-decorated piece for me. On his birthday, though he preferred chocolate, he cheerfully celebrated with a white cake blooming with roses—a gesture of love that spoke volumes about our sweet bond.

A year ago, we became engaged. Whenever asked about setting a wedding date, we always replied, “almost ready.”

"What about you?"

I knew the question was directed to me.

I answered with a question, "The cake bite is testing eternal love? Do we even know what eternal love is?"

My friends were silent. Each parsing her own interpretation.

I remembered the verse my grandmother had embroidered for my parents' wedding: "Love never fails."  

Growing up in church, I' heard about God's everlasting love, but what about human love? The Bible talked about marriage lasting "until death do us part," not necessarily forever. Maybe that's why I was hesitating—this wasn't just about whether Luke and I were compatible, but whether any two people could truly promise eternity to each other.

My parents had stayed together for twenty-five years through fights and reconciliations, through money problems and sudden illness. Mom once told me, "Love isn't just a feeling, it's choosing to stay when leaving would be easier." Was that eternal love—that daily choice, that commitment that echoed the "for better or worse" that they'd promised?

After lunch, I slid into my car and immediately pulled up the bakery's scheduling page on my phone. An empty slot glared at me from tomorrow's calendar. My finger hovered for just a second before I tapped "confirm." The cake sampling appointment locked in with a soft chime that seemed to echo with finality. This sudden opening felt more than coincidental—it felt fateful.

I only had to tell Luke.

Driving up the winding mountain roads the next day, I reflected on the Scripture readings I'd heard at every wedding. They spoke of love as patient, kind, and enduring—not magical or predestined.

As we pulled up to the small bakery, Luke and I exchanged nervous smiles. Perhaps the real magic wasn't in the cake itself, but in the courage to take a bite and face whatever lay ahead—whether it was a lifetime of mornings with Luke, a love grounded in commitment rather than fairy tales or confronting the painful truth we had been avoiding. Either way, I knew I needed to find out.

And if the cake left a bitterness, then I would miss cake for the rest of my life. But maybe that was the price of certainty.

A faint, sweet aroma of lavender and rose wafted through the tiny bakery. Only one cake sat on the small counter. And one plate, two forks, and a knife.

"Perfect." The word escaped my lips almost involuntarily as I gazed at the flawless cake: a small, two-layer 6-inch masterpiece. Before me stood a creation crowned with glossy pearl-white frosting and delicate roses in three distinct shades of white, each subtly different from the last—as though a food stylist had meticulously arranged every detail for the perfect photo shoot.

Semile introduced herself as the baker. Saying nothing else she cut one slice. The knife slid effortlessly through the cake. The thin slice removed revealed the perfect white cake texture, sandwiching an ivory-white filling. She nodded gesturing we should each take a fork and a bite.

The cake bite. I closed my eyes, plunging into a world of flavor. The first taste was a smooth, perfect white chocolate truffle. The cake's soft and light consistency dissolved in my mouth, leaving behind an unfamiliar flavor.

My tongue scraped the roof of my mouth and pressed against each cheek, searching for more. An undertone lingered that I couldn't identify—a mixture of sensual pleasure and puzzlement, like a baby's first experience tasting mashed sweet food or the initial thrill of any new sensation.

I savored the cake for another moment before opening my eyes. Just then, Luke opened his, and our hands clasped together. Our lips met in a gentle kiss.

Semile placed the remainder of the cake in a precious pink bakery box. “Keep your love

worthy,” she said.

Luke and I married a month later in a small gathering, surrounded by family and friends.

"Our Special Valentine's Treat"

by Gail Landraf

Valentine's Day isn't just for lovers.  It can be a good time to get together with those in your circle who live alone.  I remember a time when a thoughtful Valentine's visit made quite a difference during a difficult season for my widowed mother.

I received that call you never want to get.  It was life-alert letting me know my mother had fallen.  She was taken to the hospital's emergency room.  My car sped quickly down the freeway.  Soon I was at her side.  

The doctor informed us she was going to need hip- replacement surgery.  This meant a week in the hospital, two weeks in rehab, and finding someone to look after her at home for several more weeks.    

After working past the age of 69, I had finally decided to retire.  Our plans were all made.  My retirement began about two weeks before Mom's fall.  I was relieved to be rid of all my day-to-day responsibilities and looking forward to a lot of leisure time.  Overnight my life changed into that of a caregiver for my Mom.

My 90-year-old Mother was set in her ways.  She refused to stay in the larger home with my husband and I.  We all could have lived comfortably there, but she insisted that I spend several weeks at her house instead.  My husband did not offer to come spend these weeks with us.  It was just going to be Mom and me for a few weeks.

The two of us are opposites.  She is a meticulous housekeeper.  I am all about comfort and convenience.

There is a set way and proper routine for everything Mom does.  She expects everyone else to follow those same exact patterns.  6 a.m. is the time to rise each morning.  She gets fully dressed by 7 a.m.  

As for me, after sleeping in, I like to sit around in my pjs for a few hours while enjoying a cup of coffee and writing.

Often, my Mom can fit more orders into a sentence than a well-trained army commander.  For some reason the orders fall on me.  The hugs and smiles are always reserved for my brother.  At this point in the game, he is nowhere to be found.  

I say a silent prayer and ask God to help me keep my thoughts to myself.  The comments from the Hebraic calendar I try to follow did mention that this season often turns out to be a time of testing.

The testing had just begun.

Mom's phone rang continuously from the time we arrived inside her house.  She has a million good friends.  They all talk on the phone at least ten times a day.   Several of them came by to see her.  I was determined to be glad that someone was always checking on her as I hustled around to clean the house and prepare the food for any unanticipated company and us.

It felt a little like moving into Grand Central Station.  Her home was a revolving door of visitors. 

Mom is a little hard-of-hearing.  Her television volume stays about ten degrees higher than it needs to be.  She leaves the TV running on evangelical stations and the news 24/7.  Somehow, she expects to have never-ending conversations in the midst of all the television noises and the constant phone calls.

I love quiet, uninterrupted times myself.

One of Mom's greatest talents is baking. You can imagine the excitement when my cousin from Atlanta called to say she was coming over for a visit.  She had always wanted my Mom to teach her how to make a coconut pound cake. 

I shook my head in disbelief.  Really?  Was she going to give cooking lessons while using a walker?  The answer was a loud and definite "Yes!"

In a few days my cousin arrived.

She was carrying boxes.  Inside was the most delicious quiche from one of the best southern bakeries.  There was a tasty salad, fruit and croissants to go with the quiche.  We enjoyed our lunch before they moved ahead to the cake baking lessons.

The recipe book was opened.  All coconut pound cake ingredients were gathered.  There were not a lot of ingredients, and the instructions were written down in Mom's recipe book in a very basic way.  

My cousin and I soon learned that the recipe and the real experience of baking this cake were two totally different animals.

First of all, the eggs had to be room temperature.  The special tube pan had to be greased with butter that came from a bakery a friend of Mom's knew.  No names were given.  You had to ask her to ask her friend (with no name) to pick the butter up if you ever wanted to use that brand.  Mom didn't know any more details than that about the special grease.  It was pulled out of a clear plastic container with no label.  However, that particular grease had to be used to grease the cake pan or nothing would ever be the same about the final product of the cake. 

  

In the meantime, my cousin had brought her own brand of coconut flakes for their cake making.  Mom said her brand would not work.  She leaned on her walker and fished around in her freezer until she found the right brand of coconut for their cake.  The secret of the coconut was to not use the dry flaky coconut, but the type that was frozen in coconut milk.

We heard an interesting story as they began to sift the flour.  The flour sifter, which was the type with a turn-crank handle, had been given to Mom by one of her oldest friends at her bridal shower.  Her friend's grandmother had gone in with her friend to buy the gift.  They both put their names on the card. This same special sifter had been used for the making of all Mom's cakes for the last 70 years.  So, this sifter now qualifies as an antique.

Mom used a small stand mixer for mixing her cakes.  She allowed my cousin to mix the ingredients which they added into the mixing bowl.  The secret was to use a medium speed and keep the bowl and mixers turning for exactly ten minutes before adding the eggs. Many conversations flew around the room in those ten minutes of waiting.  The cheerful talk featured lots of animation and even laughter from time to time.

When it was time to add the eggs, they all had to be cracked into the bowl one at a time.  My cousin was instructed to use a spatula to stir each egg just enough to make sure it was blended into the batter.  It was not good to over-mix them.  However, the eggs had to be completely blended, or the cake would not cook evenly.

  

Finally, it was time to pour the mix into the tube pan.  Then the cake was baked for one hour.  

That next hour was spent looking at old photos of my cousin's deceased parents.  Mom found some photos with her and my deceased father on a high school outing with them.  They were all on a double date which happened way before my cousin and I were ever born.  The stories were flying around the room as they recalled memory after memory.

At the end of the day, we sent my cousin home with a delicious looking coconut pound cake.  She called to say she had to smell that cake all the way home during the two hour drive.  Her grown children greeted her as she entered the house.  Of course they were delighted to share the fresh new cake.  They loved the tasty treat.

I thought we actually got the best treat.  My cousin had brought laughter, memories, good food and conversations into an overstressed situation.  She helped to make us remember how to relax, heal and be grateful for everything.

Later I looked at my Mom who was happily reading in her favorite chair.

The cake had been baked, and everything was all right with the world.

My sweet treat was getting to relax a bit after a very busy and successful day.

The experience taught me an important lesson: if you are looking for a great way to spend your Valentine's Day, I highly recommend calling up someone who has baked for you since you were a child.  Ask them for baking lessons.  The time you spend together will turn out sweeter than the treats you bake.

"Cake in a Bag"

by Victoria Cole

Right out of high school I thought I wanted to own a bakery, so the logical first step was to attend culinary school. I enrolled in a local culinary school and learned how to make all kinds of different desserts and pastries. It was a fun experience even though I never actually ended up using my baking knowledge in my future career.

While I was in culinary school, one of the modules was cakes. In class one day we were told we were making a chocolate cake. I was excited as chocolate cake is one of my favorite flavors of cake. When I tried my first bite of this chocolate cake it immediately made me forget any other chocolate cake I had ever had. This cake was moist, chocolatey, the right balance of sweet, and not too rich. It used Dutch cocoa powder and melted chocolate in the batter which seemed to make the cake somehow extra chocolatey. My mouth waters now just thinking about that cake.

After culinary school I became the family baker. For every event, every holiday, I was in charge of making the dessert. When my sister got engaged about a year after I finished culinary school, I, of course, was elected to make the dessert for the bridal shower. Since her favorite dessert is chocolate cake, we decided I would make the chocolate cake from school.

My sister was supposed to invite all of her friends and we had quite a few family members that were invited. The party was going to be huge so I tripled the cake recipe. I had decided to cupcakes since most of the time they are easier to eat and serve than a slice of cake.

The whole morning of the bridal shower I was in the kitchen working on these cupcakes. Chocolate wafted in the air all morning as batch after batch of cupcakes went into and came out of the oven. After baking about four dozen cupcakes, there was still batter leftover. There were enough cupcakes for the event so we decided we would make a couple sheet cakes to eat later just in case there weren’t any cupcakes leftover.

It took hours to bake all the cupcakes and cakes but more than that it took forever to frost and decorate all four dozen cupcakes. As the cupcakes cooled, we frosted each one and then made small fondant medallions and wrote little “M’s” on them with edible marker. The whole process was tedious and I think we finished all four dozen cupcakes about five minutes before the first guest arrived. I had thought I might decorate one of the sheet cakes just for fun but ran out of time so I just put the two sheet cakes out of the way to eat later.

Unfortunately for whatever reason there ended up being only about ten people that came to the bridal shower. Overall the celebration was still fun and everyone had a great time. But the question at the forefront of my mind was: what to do with all of that cake?

We encouraged guests to take as many cupcakes with them as they wanted but even after that we still had probably two dozen cupcakes and two sheet cakes left. I stared around the kitchen at all the cake left over. I grabbed Ziplock bags- the gallon size- and started shoveling cake into them. I sent some home with my best friend who was there and then we took the rest home. I will say from that day forward the chocolate cake had a new name. Cake in a Bag.

We ate Cake in a Bag for a week and I think we ended up throwing some away. I think this is the last time I actually made Cake in a Bag because after this the recipe was lost. 

But there is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss Cake in a Bag.

~~~~~~

Thank you to everyone who submitted to the February Writing Challenge! The act of writing and submitting to challenges is valuable--and we love hearing from each and every one of you. 

Keep writing!

And stay tuned for the March Writing Challenge, which will be announced on the first day of the month.