Luis brought his cake into the dining area, where the party was in full swing. By the objective measure of someone who knows next to nothing about baking (me), the cake was beautiful. It was layered and peach-colored. The frosting had a nice pattern.
Luis ruined this illusion immediately. “Now, before anyone tries it, the cake has some issues.”
“Oh, I’m sure there aren’t any issues,” the host said, and the guests laughed, imagining the cake being anything but perfect.
“The color isn’t quite right,” Luis said, setting the cake down for the party to inspect. “Look at the scallop design—it falls apart there on the left side. The taste also could be a little more flavorful.”
Everyone eyed the cake like it was in a museum.
Just then, Holly bounded in with another cake. Her Funfetti cake made from a box had uneven frosting and sprinkles on top. She happily put it down next to Luis’s cake. She looked at Luis’s cake, lit up, and immediately asked for a piece.
The party then moved away from the cakes.
At the end of the night, Luis went to retrieve his serving plate and was surprised to find that almost no one had touched the cake.
Holly came up to grab the empty plate where her Funfetti cake once stood. “Luis, your cake was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. It was a masterpiece.”
“Thanks, Holly,” Luis said. “But it looks like your cake was really the hit.”
“It’s strange,” Holly said, “I kept raving about your cake all night, but the other guests kept implying that there was something wrong with it.”
“I may have said some things,” Luis said, trailing off as he thought about his own critical take on his cake.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Holly said. “Let your cake speak for itself. Now give me another piece!”