A Scrap of Paper

I think it might still be in the pair of jeans I was wearing that Wednesday morning. I remember it being a little greased from the butter on my fingers. I remember it looking fragile folded into fours. A little slip of paper that held these words:

Jenny 6/10

1 - German Chocolate Frosting
2 - SMBC Frosting
3- Chocolate Silk Frosting

The little slip of a scrap of a piece of paper held on to a metal shelf on a brick wall by a binder clip. In front of my station in the sweets kitchen of the bakery. On most mornings over the past six months I have had the pleasure of watching frostings made, I have even assisted once or twice (the most recent time with Luis who hadn't made any of the frostings in ages and had to constantly consult his book for hints and who asked me to translate certain things into his spiraled pages so he would remember for the next time around), but I had never been assigned those to create on my own. My frostings were made at home, in my empire red Kitchen Aid with no more than a pound of butter or confectioner's sugar, never enough for more than two cups of frosting, never more than enough to frost a 9-inch layer cake. Definitely not what I was now tasked to make--enough to fill four to six tubs and each made with more butter than I typically purchase in an entire year.

I looked at the piece of paper and then at Wilna. And she smiled. It's easy enough she told me. You'll be fine. Tulia walked by later, prepping her butter for the frostings she thought she would make. Wilna's words again. Jenny is making the frosting today. And so I did. Melted chocolate. Creamed butter. Whipped egg whites. Heated yolks together with evaporated milk. Stirred. Whisked. Heated. Beat. Creamed. Mixed. Spooned. And labeled. Before me at the morning's end: one large container of German Chocolate Frosting, four tubs of SMBC frosting, and three of the chocolate. No lumps, thank you. And the SMBC held together in exactly the way I prayed it would as I saw the paddle attachment of the mixer whipping the whites into soft peaks and then staying in place as the creamed butter was added. Frosting that held together on my next morning when I was charged with frosting four red velvet cakes and the tubs I pulled had the familiar markings of my own handwriting. The same with the Devil's Food Cake I frosted later when I wished Christine a Happy 30th Birthday. Frosting that Lucia later used in her German Chocolate cake.

I plan to hold on to that scrap of paper for as long as the greased creases remain together. And then I'll bind them in tape. And then I'll put them in a keepsake box. The beauty is in the simple things. A simple scrap of paper that will always remind me that someone else gave me a challenge, knew I could do it, and then smiled at me as she saw me complete it successfully.