The Baked Alaska

I have only ever had Baked Alaska once in my life. I was seventeen and it remains etched in my memory. Mum and I spent a few days in Geneva on our big trip. Our journey had various highs and lows but the time in Geneva was achingly glamorous. We were hosted by a charming man, Georges Fest and his family. During our few days, Georges flew us to lunch at Lake Lucerne in his private plane. He also scored us tickets to an extravagant, Formal Ball (no idea what it was in aid of). On crossing the road to enter the hotel where the ball was being held mum and I were very nearly run over by a speeding, shiny, red Ferrari. Anyway, I digress, it was a fantastic meal and the highlight was at the end when they turned out the lights and a procession of smartly dressed waiters marched into the room carrying flaming trays of Baked Alaska. It was one of the most delicious things I had ever tasted mouth-watering ice cream covered with a delicate layer of sponge and then the fluffy meringue. I have never had it again since.

When the waiter at dinner announces that there is a special dessert tonight and it is Baked Alaska, I am torn. Tonight between 7:30 and 7:45 there is a chance to meet the Ship’s Captain and I want the boys to have a photo with him. Also I am very curious to discuss the Costa incident with the Captain and get his take on it. On discussing this with Frank we decide to wait for the Baked Alaska, eat it quickly and then rush off to meet the Captain at the other end of the ship and two flights down. All goes well until about 7:30, the Baked Alaska has not come out and Sam and I need to go the toilet. Frank says ‘don’t go, it will come out while you’re in the toilet’. I say, ‘I’ve waited 25 years for another Baked Alaska, I don’t care if I have to run out with my pants down.’ Naturally no sooner have Sam and I entered the toilet than I hear the music start and the clapping. Sam and I run out of the toilet and stand at the base of the stairs. I look up and see the procession of waiters at the top of the stairs and think, it’s okay we haven’t missed anything. Two regal staircases form back to back C’s with a landing in the middle. To my horror I look up and see Sam standing on the landing in the middle he is dancing and clapping; directly in the path of the marching waiters, the lights are dimmed and their arms are full of flaming Baked Alaska. Everyone has their cameras ready and Sam must think the clapping is for him. I yell at him to come down but with the music and the clapping he doesn’t hear me. I manage to run up the stairs and grab him just before the laden procession reaches the landing.

It is about 7:39pm when the Baked Alaska arrives on our plates. It’s incredibly yummy – the boys say the meringue tastes like toasted marshmallows. I say, ‘I don’t want to rush anyone but we have a Captain to meet’. We decide that I will go ahead and hold the Captain, so to speak, while the boys finish up. I move toward the front of the ship and hurry down the Swarovski stairs in the centre of the boat.

A Ship photographer is armed with his camera and asks if I’d like a photo. Hmm…well it is only time I’ve dressed up, I didn’t even have a dress until yesterday, surely one photo can’t hurt. Obviously the guy is bored because when I say ‘okay’ it turns it into a photo shoot for Italian Vogue. He’s commanding me to walk up the stairs, now down, turn around, now put your hands on the rail and lean back. All the while he is clicking away happily. At the end I am smiling through gritted teeth. I just wanted one photo not a portfolio. With the turning around and the flashing of the camera I become dazed and run up to a staff member, ‘where’s the meeting with the Captain?’ I am pointed toward the back of the ship’. I run to the back to be told, ‘no it’s at the front’. On moving to the front I run straight into Frank and the boys. ‘What kept you?’ asks Frank. I roll my eyes, 'You mean between the photo shoot and the marathon'.

We walk in to meet the Captain, just as the photographer is getting ready to pack up. We get the standard ship photo whith him and then we are ushered away by the Purser. The Captain, Francesco, is still within hearing distance of us. I bring up the Costa incident with him. He gives a very guarded take on it 'Our colleagues...a tradegy and the media' he throws up his hands like it is the media's fault. The Captain is listening I turn and look at him, 'There must be a lot of pressure for you right now'. (The incident highlights the responsibility of being Captain of a large passenger vessel). He shakes his head, 'Not an accident, a terrible mistake'. I nodd and he adds 'and what happened after' he throws up his hands and I know he means the Concordia Captain abandoning ship (the latest here is he didn't abandon ship he fell onto a life boat hmmm). I smile at the Captain and say, 'I know we're in good hands'. He must have got off the boat the next day in Genoa because when we switch cabins the following day we have a night's sleep to rival 'the sleeping bus'. After our meeting with the Captain we watch a show in the theatre, Starwalker, a tribute to Michael Jackson, which features a very good MJ impersonator. It leaves the boys moon walking and pelvic thrusting for days.