I had a little buddy at the mission whom you need to meet. His name was Jérémie.
He was the son of one of our bakers, and I think he was born not too long before I arrived at the mission (he was probably 10 or so months old when these pictures were taken in May 2021).
One day, Pentecost Tuesday, he decided that he liked me. I had barely had any (if I had indeed had any) interaction with him, but he started toddling up to me, letting me hold him -- I was holding him at one point and when I handed him back to his mother, he started crying. She gave him back to me and he stopped. It made no sense.
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Not a selfie, but he looks smart enough to take one |
In the meantime, the harvest was coming in from the garden. Eggplant, tomatoes, okra, basil that smelled incredible.
Angelique was in the hospital at this point. Canon Sigros told me what had happened (we were standing in the air-conditioned pantry, he speaking English and me speaking French) when they took her there Sunday evening: there was no doctor present at night (he lived next door but they didn't call him), no taking vitals (my journal says, "no surprise there"; I must have been thinking of my experience in the dispensary), they started an IV and gave her medication for fever -- without having taken her temperature. He also said the front desk (a separate room here) was empty when they arrived. Canon Fragelli had said the hospital has the reputation of, "You go there to die", and I now understood why.
Tuesday was also Modeste's birthday. I made a cake using Nesquick powder (I followed a recipe!) and frosted it with the leftover icing from the Malibu cake. I, Canon and one of the little boys (Jérémie's brother) tasted some bits of it that were left on the parchment paper. No one said anything. I thought it was a little off, but assumed I had eaten a burned part.
I don't know what happened, but it was horrible. Bitter, salty, metallic -- it was so awful! I felt so bad for Modeste and was, of course, extremely embarrassed.
[On today's date, December 10th, 2023, more than two-and-a-half years following this disaster, I discovered what happened. Maman Noëline thought maybe I had used too much baking soda, but, as I said in my journal, I used as much as the recipe called for: 2 tablespoons. This is the recipe. You will note, however, that there is a photograph above the recipe, of the original recipe from a church cookbook, calling for 2 teaspoons of baking powder. I can't believe I finally found this out. I really want to make the cake again and do it right.]
The next day, Canon allowed me to redeem myself (he didn't say that). I went back to the yellow cake recipe that had served me so well for the Malibu cake. I used strawberry flavoring (artificial 😢) and found two pans the same size (I think they were 8"). "And", says my journal, "-- unbelievably -- measuring cups in imperial!" I made the same roux frosting as before, this time using strawberry flavor instead of coconut, all while giving Maman Noëline a requested tutorial. I also caramelized some bananas which went between the layers. There was a little bit of Tartina left -- similar to Nutella but thinner and peanut flavored, rather than hazelnut -- which we spread on the bottom layer with the bananas. We then covered the whole thing in the strawberry frosting, then right before serving after dinner, I drizzled the rest of the Tartina over the top and added a candle.
They all loved it, which of course made me very happy and made me feel much better.
Next, we would be hosting more than 20 altar boys for the weekend!
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