February is for Cake Eaters

Ah, February... the month full of completely worthless holidays. (Except MLK Day... that one's kind of important. But you know, the other ones.) But any holiday provides an excuse for cake, and cake makes any holiday seem legit, so it's a win-win situation.

I do have a confession to make. (No, it's not that I'm terrible at keeping up with this blog. That's obvious.) Two weeks ago... I skipped making a cake. It was impossible. Dance and work keep me too busy during the week, and I ran the Tough Mudder that Saturday (don't do it, ever, seriously), which meant Friday I had to prepare and go to bed early, and all day Saturday was spent in Middle-of-Nowhere, GA, climbing walls, crawling through mud, running through woods, jumping into train cars of ice water, and otherwise torturing myself along with a couple thousand of my closest friends. So last week I made two cakes to compensate. Which brings me to my second confession: I switched the order. It just made sense, as you'll see... I needed to at least give one holiday its respective cake. Honestly, I don't feel too guilty about it. I'm only one person. Dr. Robinson did have her whole family a lot of the time. The important thing is that they all get made. And they will.

So... on to the cakes...

February 14th was, obviously, Valentine's Day/Singles Awareness Day/Tuesday... all perfectly good reasons to celebrate and all perfectly good reasons for cake. The Valentine's Day cake in this book is a Red Velvet Cake. The only thing in the world that makes me happier than cupcakes is red velvet cake. I've taken to many aspects of Southern cuisine, including fried green tomatoes, collard greens, grits... but the pinnacle of southern fare is definitely red velvet cake. So you can imagine my ecstasy upon opening the book and seeing this recipe before me. An avid Valentine's Day hater, I was for once excited for the ridiculous holiday.

Sadly, I wish I could go back and undo knowing how red velvet cake is made. First of all, red velvet cake is chocolate cake; the red comes from red food coloring... 2 ounces of it. 2 ounces! Do you know how hard it is to even find 2 ounces of red food coloring? (Look on the top shelf between the spices and the jello all the way in the back.) It also requires you to sour buttermilk. And you will inevitably turn your kitchen a pretty shade of pink.

Sketchy neon batter and baker's frustrations aside, the cake actually came out beautifully. I had no complaints. Neither did my coworkers. It was dense and moist and perfect. The suggested icing was a whipped cream type icing, and the light, fluffy texture and creamy taste complimented the cake quite well. I'm a fan of cream cheese icing on red velvet, though, so next time I'll be trying a cream cheese frosting. It even recommends it as an alternative in the book. One of my coworkers was so pleased that she wrote me an e-mail and copied the rest of the lab congratulating me on my fine work and thanking me for thinking of them and bringing them this fabulous cake. A pleasant Valentine's Day indeed. And, I assure you, a new Valentine's Day tradition has begun.

The second cake I made last weekend, although its intended purpose was Groundhog Day (a holiday even more ridiculous and appalling than Valentine's Day). Who would make a Groundhog Day cake? you ask. Well, this cake is based on a cake made by Sanders Chocolate, a candy store in downtown Detroit, where Dr. Robinson is from. This particular cake was her mother's favorite, and I can see why: a devil's food cake topped with ridges of buttercream covered in chocolate fudge. Decadent does not begin to describe it. It's particularly fitting for Groundhog day because the buttercream ridges resemble groundhog furrows.

The cake itself was innocent enough--a basic, moist chocolate cake. But then there was the buttercream: 4 sticks of butter and 3 cups of confectioners sugar. Terrifying. Nothing should ever use 4 sticks of butter. Ever. And then of course, there was the fudge... clearly this cake is not for the faint of heart... or stomach... or teeth (I was fairly certain just biting into this cake would result in instant cavities). It was quite an exciting, all-day process: make cake, freeze cake and make buttercream, top cake with buttercream, freeze cake-and-buttercream and make fudge, top cake-and-buttercream with fudge, freeze cake-buttercream-fudge extravaganza. I don't think mine came out very pretty... it definitely doesn't look like the one on the Sanders website. But with that much chocolate, sugar, and butter... there's no way it couldn't be delicious.

A bunch of friends came over that night for the sole purpose of eating cake and drinking wine. Groundhog Day was long past, there was no special occasion... just having a cake that needed to be eaten was an occasion enough to gather us together. The cake was rich, decadent, sweet, chocolaty... exactly what you would expect. It was well-received and made for a nice little get-together.

I was ready for a cake-break after two cakes in one week. This week's cake is cooling right now, though, and going in to work for its debut at lab meeting. I'll try not to be quite so late with its post.

Superbowl Cake Day

Who brings cake to a Superbowl party? Me, of course. Someone has to think outside the box... I mean, really, there's only so much chili and chips and dip one can consume.

Last week's cake was actually completely inappropriate for the Superbowl. The "Princess Daisy Cake" is described as good for weddings and christenings because it is "light and elegant." Not qualities embodied by football, the competitive spirit of the Superbowl, or the glitz of an over-the-top Madonna & Co halftime show. But I had to make a cake, and I had to contribute to a Superbowl party, so it was just going to have to work.

The cake, a white cake with lemon filling and an Italian meringue icing, is indeed light and citrusy (and perhaps elegant if made by someone with a more skilled hand than me). The cake and filling were straightforward, but the icing dealt me fits, since I don't have nice things like a candy thermometer, leaving me to guess what 242 F looked like (this is apparently the "thread stage" when making a syrup, so when you drop it into cold water, it will make threads, rather than a compact ball). I don't think the texture was quite right, but it tasted fine and didn't detract from the prettiness of the cake.

This out-of-its-element cake actually complemented our Superbowl feast quite well. We are quite the talented bunch in the kitchen: buffalo chicken dip, guacamole, spinach artichoke dip, bean dip, fried green tomatoes, pizza, numerous types of chips, and a buffet of adult beverages. The light, airy cake offered a break from the heavy, greasy Superbowl fare, and was enjoyed by all. Further proof, in my mind, that cake makes everything, even football, Madonna, and Superbowl commercials, better.

Happy Birthday Kellie and Martin!

I love birthdays. They always provide a great reason to make a cake. And they ensure the cake is eaten right away by a multitude of hungry, appreciative people, instead of being consumed entirely by me.

Last week's cake was an oatmeal cake, something I'd never considered might exist before. I love oatmeal... I eat ridiculous quantities of it year round, even in the sweltering heat of summer. Breakfast, lunch, dinner... it can be adapted to all meal times and all seasons. Every bowl can be a new experience depending on the fruits (fresh or dried), nuts, and spices you add. Thankfully, it's full of health benefits... good for your heart, full of fiber, etc.

I can't say that an oatmeal cake is particularly healthy; however, it is delicious. Words cannot do it justice. It was so soft and moist, and the topping... a mix of pecans, coconut, brown sugar, and butter toasted under the broiler that can only be described as heavenly. I can imagine how perfectly it would pair with a hot cup of coffee for breakfast, or how amazing it would taste served warm with a big scoop of cold vanilla ice cream. I think "comfort food" is another good descriptor. Happily it's an easy cake to make, requiring few ingredients and few dishes, so you can bet this one will be made again. A lot.

I took it to a joint birthday celebration for two of my friends from school. It was showered with compliments while being quickly devoured. Bringing a cake to a party is a huge ego booster. I don't know if people just don't bake cakes anymore or what, but everyone is always hugely impressed, even over a modest cake like this one (I mean, it's not like it was a Yule Log or anything). Anyway, I was lucky to get a piece, and I confess to scraping the crumbs out of the pan before putting it in the dishwasher. This cake was definitely a winner. I'm gladly accepting reasons to make another!