A 'Right Said Fred'-Style Pyramid Cookie Cake
Allow me to shed light on that obscure title. In the midst of moving the entire contents of our abode down many flights of stairs and up many more (to bigger digs), my son had a book-review deadline looming.
The ‘project’ was to bring food items, loosely related to the story the student had read, to class for a nosh-up.
He read Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol, and decided somehow to create some kind of pyramid-shaped edibles. While looking for ideas online, we found this article and were stupidly both convinced it’d be quick and somewhat easy, rationalizing that the ‘moderate’ difficulty-rating was merely to benefit the young and naïve.
I should’ve known when I saw ‘oven’ in the list of things I’d need, that perhaps this article wasn’t put together by some crafty domestic goddess, who had tried and perfected this recipe for kids’ parties. Indeed by the end of it all I thought whoever uploaded it had never even attempted it, but I was grateful to the contributor for inadvertently providing us with an evening full of hysterics.
The first mistake we made was to choose chocolate chip cookie dough. The second mistake we made was to follow the suggestions to the letter – or should I say inch – even after eyeballing the sheer size and weight of a cookie-pyramid with a 10” square base. The third mistake we made was to buy only one extra cookie sheet instead of four.
Here’s where Fred comes in. After recovering from laughing cramps brought on by our harebrained responses to things breaking, melting or failing, I started singing ‘Right Said Fred’. My son’s quizzical looks hastened me to flick cookie dough all over the laptop typing in a search for the old song on Youtube:
Lyrics to add to your listening pleasure:
So between hauling boxes and furniture creatively around about 650 sq feet much like a Safari Rush-Hour brainteaser, I fully identified with the line “’Ad bad twinges, takin’ off the ‘inges”. The confectioner’s sugar and cookie crumbs plastered all over the kitchen indicated we were getting nowhere, and so we ‘ad a cuppa tea. Many times, just like the geezers in the song.
I remember hearing this song as a child and thinking “How true! Workmen don’t really ever seem to make any progress, and do always seem to be on a tea-break”. Maybe it was a 1970s Union thing. And although I marveled at the catchy melody and succinct lyrics, I always assumed the singer, Bernard Cribbins, had written the whole thing. But this was still back in the days where honest-to-goodness lyricists wrote the witty songs, gifted composers created the strong melodies, and those endowed with undeniable vocals sang it.
Credit goes to songwriting team Ted Dicks and Myles Rudge, with the talents of game-for-a-laugh producer George Martin - going by the name of Ray Cathode - a few months before those jokers the Beatles got a hold of him.
Of course after all those cups of tea I was up half the night lugging boxes and getting nowhere. The colossal pyramid cookie cake stood proud until we hit the first speed bump in the high school parking lot at 6.30 am next morning, whereby the cookie panels collapsed. After class, my son and his ‘book report’ were mobbed in the hallway. Not a crumb remained.