Robin Densmore Fuson

  The kitchen smelled delightful. I looked forward to the chocolate cake that baked in the oven. The timer told me the cake should come out of the heat to cool. Wearing hot mitts on my hands, I opened the door, pulled out the pan, and placed the dessert where it could cool. I frowned at the pathetic thing. Flat instead of fluffy. I called my young apprentice back into the kitchen. “What happened?” Her wide-eyed stare said volumes. I sent her to re-read the instructions. She read them off out loud, one by one. At 3 tablespoons of water, I stopped her and walked over to what she read. Yep. Right there in black and white, it read, 3 tablespoons of water. My finger tapped the last few words she neglected to read. Words so important to our baking class—and 1 cup. Hmm. The recipe had not been followed.   Had it been the outcome would've been different. She learned a valuable lesson that day.   Many years ago, I worked with my late husband as a carpenter. Holding the...