After talking to the staff at various Williams-Sonoma stores, some of whom dissuaded me from trying to bake it again, I steeled myself for one final attempt at making the Build-A-Bear Workshop Santa bear cake. On the morning of December 23, the day before our annual Christmas Eve party, I set out the ingredients, pre-heated the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit, greased and floured the cake mold, and prayed to the baking gods that this time I would get it right. (For an accounting of preceding Santa bear cake disasters, read the previous entry, “Trials of Holiday Baking.”)
In spite of past tribulations, things went fairly well. No molten batter oozing over the edge of the pan. No decapitations. No suicidal falls. Only a slight neck fracture that I braced with frosting. So far, so good.
After the cake had cooled and I had consumed both dinner and stiff drink, I prepared to decorate. Since Sean was the driving force behind this holiday treat, he was given the chance of the season – to aid in outfit application. Little did he know that this exciting opportunity would last until one in the morning. Ah, Christmas baking!
The decorating marathon began with me filling in the huge center crack with leftover buttercream icing. Hole covered, Sean and I moved on to creating the illusion of fur. We did this by painting the surface of the bear with a chocolate glaze followed by a dusting of turbinado sugar. As usual, I ended up with far more sugar on the counter, floor and my fingers than on the cake. As a result, the poor guy looked as though he suffered from mange.
Fur applied, we focused on the Williams-Sonoma fondant Santa outfit. Warned of the difficulties of working with fondant, I passed the job of rolling out and cutting this thick, sugary paste to Sean. He expertly trimmed the fondant to match the Williams-Sonoma-supplied pattern and then handed each piece to me. I, in turn, glued on the Santa suit and facial features with dabs of buttercream. As the photos indicate, we forgot about the buttons on his coat and skipped the black-toy-bag-with-red-ribbon prop. Nor did we use a ping pong ball to mold the Santa cap. Hence why our hat flops. Why didn’t we fix the cap? No ping pongs on hand. As for the ample supply of toy cat balls, well, they seemed just a tad unhygienic.
Bear decorated, we gently wrapped him in foil and left him on the kitchen counter for the Christmas Eve unveiling. Unveiling it was. On December 24 everyone gathered in the living room to watch as I removed layer after layer of aluminum foil to reveal the portly, little fellow. Upon seeing him, our friends cried out, “He’s too cute to eat!” “Leave him for the Christmas Day guests!” was the consensus among everyone except Mike, who is, coincidentally, a veterinarian.
Amidst cries of protest, the doc employed his surgical skills, sliced into the back of the bear and extracted a big piece of . . . fondant. Serves him right!
Over a week later Mike remains the lone person to take a bite of the bear. Everyone else claimed that they found him too cute to consume. Instead, they opted for the chocolate-holly cupcakes or white chocolate-cranberry panettone that I had made as back up desserts or the orange-pineapple upside down cake that our friend Jim had baked.
In spite of their reluctance to try this little guy, friends and family need not regret missing a taste of Santa cake. Thanks to the $2, end-of-season sale at Williams-Sonoma on Madison and 86th, I’ve stocked up on enough Santa, soccer, and princess bear kits to construct an entire bear village. Then again, Santa does make a festive centerpiece. Maybe I should save myself some time and anxiety and simply shellac and shelve him for next year.