I particularly liked reading this week's chapter, because it mentioned people I knew from the bio department back in college. I stopped for a little to wonder how they were doing, if they're still there, trying to figure out how I can stop by the university one day when school is still in session to see everyone, instead of taking my usual eerily silent walk through the ghost town of campus around the holidays. It also describes the adventures of Dr. Robinson and her friends during a "camp out" for adult women hosted by the Girl Scout organization as a fundraiser. Sounds like my kind of camping: classes included archery, wine tasting, and belly dancing (which her description of made me laugh--a lot), and a catered seafood dinner. Fantastic. They even consult a Ouija board back in their cabin, and I can't help but laugh to myself at the thought of these three grown, mature women, who mentored me through college, giggling like preteen girls over the game board. I wonder if my mom and her friends do this on their get-togethers. I wonder if my friends and I will, after we've had careers, been married, had children, bought houses. I hope we do.
Making this cake was somewhat of its own adventure; I might as well have been in the woods, what with all the spontaneous improvising I had to do. The cake was supposed to be a chocolate cake with peanut butter icing and a chocolate garnish. My first issue, however, was that the recipe called for a jelly roll pan. I don't actually know what a jelly roll is, much less what the pan for one looks like, and I certainly do not own one (my list of required supplies is growing: KitchenAid, second double boiler, jelly roll pan). After a quick 911 call to Google, I decided to just use a 9 x 13 cake pan. They're both... rectangular. The cake itself went smoothly, as did the peanut butter chip frosting. (I think I ate like a gallon of it... it almost didn't make it to the cake.)
When I got to the garnish, though, I had some problems. Seemed simple: 1/2 cup chocolate chips, 1 teaspoon of butter. Melt in microwave for 1 minute, drizzle over cake. So I put my chips and butter in a cup and put it in the microwave for 1 minute, took it out and gave it a stir to smooth it out, and... it solidified almost instantly. Strange. Perhaps I didn't add enough butter? So I added a little more butter, and put it back in the microwave for a few seconds. And when I took it out, I had... chocolate carbon. A weird charcoal like substance that had no business on a cake. So I tried again, with another 1/2 cup of chocolate chips. Still not drizzleable. Stubbornly, however, I attempted to drizzle, and just ended up with some chocolate lumps on top of my beautiful peanut butter frosting. What to do? On a whim, I melted the rest of the bag of chocolate chips, plopped it on top of the cake, and spread it out. Ta-da! A layer of chocolate ganache (sort of). The cake looked and smelled so delicious, I was sure no one would be the wiser.
And it was a big hit. We all gathered in the office while Alex cut her cake and we enjoyed slices that were probably too big but rich and delicious. The cake itself is similar to the cake part of the Best Cake Ever. (I'm actually starting to love chocolate cake. Apparently it just needs to be made from scratch and contain sour cream.) The topping was sort of like a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. I could feel the cavities forming in my teeth as I ate.
All in all, a successful Cake Day. I sharpened my improvisation skills, Alex got a birthday treat, and we all got a little something to sweeten up what seems to have been a sad week in science.
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