804. Paranormal Sour Cream

I am not a sour cream eater.  I realize that this is un-American, as we have been conditioned to put the stuff on baked potatoes, nachos, and according to recipe.com, even on blueberries.  No.  I do not buy it, I do not like it, I do not seek it out.  Something about the texture of it makes me cringe, and I am not fond of that fact that it is cold but not quite cold enough to qualify as ice-cream but not quite creamy enough to be whipped cream.  I am wary of sour cream, suspicious of its indecision to be one thing or another. 

If sour cream was a person who approached me at a party, I would politely pretend I only spoke German, and quickly move away. 

So it should come as somewhat of a surprise that I notice a container of it in my very own fridge.  The Husband, apparently, does not share my phobia of all things sour cream.  He bought it and stuck it on the top shelf.  I had an epiphany: Why not make a lemon Bundt cake, with the principal ingredient being (you guessed it) sour cream?  THIS, my friends, is why sour cream was invented:  to put in things, not to eat by itself. 

I laid out all the components that the recipe called for.  My kitchen counter resembled a Martha Stewart prep kitchen (albeit a very tiny one):  premeasured flour, eggs at room temperature, two sticks of butter waiting to be transformed by their friend white sugar, and of course, the sour cream. 

I opened the lid.  Underneath the lid, was a clear protective wrapper made of plastic.  It was similar to what you would find on the top of the Tylenol bottle.  Just an extra layer to keep it safe from terrorists or maintain its freshness levels, or whatever.  Then, I tore off the plastic. 

Now, usually when I bake, I don’t really “study” the ingredients very carefully.  I just set them out, toss them in the bowl, then bake (I have been blessed with the Baking Gene—everything I bake is magically perfect.  I’m not kidding.).  But, in this case, for whatever reason, when I opened the sour cream container and removed the plastic, I happened to glance at it just as I put the spoon in, but right before I went to measure out one cup. 

The sour cream was smiling at me. 

Here, see for yourself.      

photo by MOV

Literally smiling at me.  So I had to grab the camera. 

yep, I took this photo too

Next, I went over to the trash can to find the crumpled clear protective plastic to see exactly how the marketing people at the Sour Cream Factory got the clear wrapper to make that smiley impression.  So clever!  How did they do it?    

However, upon closer inspection, I determined that the plastic wrap was just a plain ol’ piece of plastic.  It did not have any type of design in it.  The people at the Sour Cream Factory had nothing to do with the face that was smiling up at me.  It was a freak occurrence. 

But, honestly, I wasn’t too freaked out by it.  You see, this kind of thing happens to me all the time. 

Flower petals fall in a heart formation on my table.  Clouds spell out my name.  The license plate in front of me has my birthday numbers on it (921).  Seriously, the Universe is constantly calling out to me.  I once heard about a woman that found the image of the Virgin Mary on her toast.  Please.  That’s the best you can do?  I have my own personal angels sending my cheery signs almost every day. 

I bake the lemon Bundt cake, then slice it to serve my sons. 

Short takes one bite and exclaims, “Mommy, this cake makes my tummy smile!”  Of course it does.  The sour cream is in there. 

MOV