From Flour to Failure: My Hilarious Green Tea Cake Experience

Daily writing prompt

Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.

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You know those moments when you think, “I’ve totally got this”—and the universe immediately writes your downfall in neon letters? That was me, sophomore year of college, with what I believed would be my crowning achievement in baking: Japanese green tea cakes.

The plan was noble: make delicate little sponge cakes as a thank-you gift for the English teachers and cafeteria staff who had fed me (both literally and academically) for the past two years. The execution… less noble.

Step One: I rummaged through my cabinets and realized I had no green tea leaves. Did I let this tiny, critical detail stop me? Of course not. I MacGyvered the recipe with bagged green tea, because how different could it be? (Spoiler: very.)

Step Two: I followed the recipe with the confidence of someone who thought entropy was just a fancy way to say “creative chaos.” I steamed those sponge cakes in cupcake liners like I was auditioning for “The Great British Bake Off: Dorm Room Edition.”

Step Three: I marched into school like a culinary hero, passing out cakes to unsuspecting staff members, who smiled politely and thanked me as if I hadn’t just unknowingly poisoned them with dessert-shaped dish soap.

When I finally tasted one myself, the truth hit me like a mouthful of bubble bath. To this day, I have no idea why the cakes tasted soapy. Maybe the tea. Maybe the liners. Maybe the cosmic punishment for my overconfidence.

All I know is: I invented the world’s first edible bar of soap. Gordon Ramsay would’ve been proud—of how fast he could’ve spit it out.