Happy (Extremely Belated) St. Patrick's Day!

Here I am, 2 weeks late with another entry. I'm so bad at this. Although I'm 90% certain no one reads this anymore anyway, so I suppose it doesn't much matter.

Grumpiness aside...

Randy was in town last weekend, and it was St. Patrick's Day, so there were many festivities. Tim was corning a beef, and I was craving my mom's special cabbage recipe, a St. Patrick's Day staple in our house for years, so as part of our celebration, we decided to have an authentic Irish dinner. (Well, as authentic as we Americans can get, I suppose.) Tim prepared the corned beef and potatoes, Chris brought Irish variety beer, and we brought the cabbage, Irish soda bread (a baking adventure itself), and, of course, cake.

The cake was Sacher Torte, which is apparently the most famous chocolate cake in the world. Of course, I've never heard of it, so how famous can it really be? Then again, I don't - wait, didn't - like chocolate cake, so I'm probably not the chocolate cake expert, hence my ignorance. Anyway, the cake is two thin layers of dense bittersweet chocolate cake filled with apricot jam and covered in a dark chocolate glaze. The most traumatic part of the cake was trying to half the single thin chocolate cake (well, that and opening the rum to go in the apricot filling... I can't smell rum now without flashbacks to fruitcake...), but it was overall a cake that looked more impressive than the work that went into it. Randy was a fantastic photographer, conducting a rather intense photo shoot of the cake making process. Sadly, there's just not enough room for all the pictures.

Dinner was delicious... we really outdid ourselves in a fine showcase of our culinary talents. The book clearly states that whipped cream is an important part of Sacher Torte, so after plenty of Irish fare, we dolloped generous helpings of homemade whipped cream on top of our slices of cake, and enjoyed the excellent finale to our meal. Most of us had second helpings, leaving little room for the enjoyment of Irish beverages later in the night, but it was a worthy trade.

I'm honestly not usually a huge St. Patrick's Day fan. Too many people pretending to like Irish punk bands and getting sloppy drunk early in the morning for my taste. But this year may have changed my attitude a bit. Good friends, good food, good beer, time with my sweetie, and fabulous chocolate cake... sounds like a great holiday to me!

Cake vs Pie

An age-old battle. Which is better? I remember having unnecessarily lengthy discussions with a dear friend from college about how we wished we could have pie at our weddings instead of cake. I was never particularly fond of cake, actually; frosting was the only draw for me, and I was very particular about the type of frosting worth the pursuit of cake. Pie was far more appealing, because there was less "bread" and more goodness: apples, pumpkin, pecans, the chocolate cream of French Silk pie. I was determined that if I ever got married, I would find a way to replace the expected giant, tiered, white (boring) cake with pie. Preferably my grandmother's pecan. This cake adventure and my (re)discovery of cupcakes, however, has since changed my tune. I would be willing to accept a cake... but only if it was the red velvet or the New Orleans chocolate or THE white cake from this book. My intense love for cupcakes would also make tiers of cupcakes an option. Although I haven't completely given up on pie. Mini pies perhaps? If tiers of mini cakes in the form of cupcakes work, surely tiers of mini pies would be just as good.

The cake from two weeks ago (I'm so behind, again) might just provide a truce in the cake vs pie battle. A recipe from one of Dr. Robinson's good friends, Val's Boston Apple Cake is essentially an apple pie in cake's clothing. It's delightfully simple, one of those throw everything in a bowl, mix, pour in pan/pie plate, and bake kind of cakes. There's just enough dough to be considered a cake, but it's full all the way through with apple slices, nuts, and raisins, providing enough filling to appease the pie lovers. Tastes like apple pie, with a texture more like cake or a quick bread. And, most importantly, delicious.

The chapter containing this recipe is all about friendship, family, and spending time with people we truly want to spend time with. In that spirit, I took the cake over to Tim and Maureen's, and Chris joined us for an evening of chatting, Bones watching, and cake eating. We ate almost the entire thing... there were two small pieces (or one large, I suppose) left by the time I went home.

Perhaps the wedding pastry plan should be Boston Apple Cake cupcakes. Sounds like the best way to please cake eaters, pie eaters, and cupcake lovers alike!

Happy Birthday, Chris!

I love when there are actual occasions for cake. I get to show off my cake baking skills, and it's like an instant gift! Plus it's way more impressive and appreciated than a store bought cake.

The title of the chapter containing last week's cake recipe is "Science Is Not a Cake Walk." Truer words have never been spoken. We've been subject to some bad science karma in the lab lately, and right now, when all I want in the world is to graduate and move on with my life, failed experiments and unnecessary delays seem even more frustrating.

Thankfully, we can find reasons to celebrate. Chris' birthday was last week, and in observance, we went out for Mexican and margaritas. This week's cake was not a tower of magnificence, but was easy to transport and easy to eat, and it was impressive all done up with candles.

The recipe was Chocolate-Pecan cake, inspired by New Orleans pralines, confections full of pecans, chocolate and caramel. It was supposed to be simple, the "cake walk" that the past week's science had not been. The cake itself actually was; it was essentially a glorified cookie, and making the batter was as easy as whipping up a batch of slightly fancy chocolate chip cookies. The caramel sauce, however, proved to be a challenge. I'd never made caramel before, and apparently there are all sorts of rules, the most important being: once the sugar is dissolved, DO NOT TOUCH IT!!! So while I stirred and waited for my sugar to turn "a medium-amber color," my sugar water slowly boiled away, and I ended up with... sugar. Who would have guessed that when you dissolve sugar in water and then boil off all the water you end up right back where you started? I was, of course, out of sugar after that, so I had to run to the store to buy more sugar, and after extensive research on caramel-making, my second attempt yielded a much better result. Slightly darker than it should have been, resulting in a nuttier flavor instead of just sweet, but it worked on the cookie cake, and everyone enjoyed it, no complaints. And now I'm an expert caramel maker. Or something like that.

Mexican, margaritas, company, and cake made for a fun birthday celebration and a welcome way to forget a long week.

I hope there's cake in Heaven

Last week's cake was angel food cake. I was obviously panicked. Angel food cake? Do you know how hard that is? Do you know how many eggs that is? It's 14. 14 EGGS! 14 eggs whites dumped into a bowl and brought to room temperature and beat into magic. I enlisted Maureen's help to prevent any nervous breakdowns.



It turns out that an angel food cake is actually entirely egg whites. A little sugar, a little flour, but seriously... mostly egg whites. I guess that means it's healthy? Lots of protein, low calorie, low fat... it's like a dieting cake lover's dream. Anyway... beating all those egg whites made a giant, fluffy "dough" which was really more like foam with a life of its own. Even my biggest mixing bowl was barely big enough to contain it. The pan also had some issues... I didn't have a tube pan, but a bundt pan is pretty similar, and I bought that bundt pan for that darn Tunnel of Fudge cake, so I was determined to put it to good use, and decided it would be close enough. Like the bowl, it barely held the batter, but we made it work. It was slightly terrifying to watch the cake slowly rise in the oven, threatening to spill over the sides and overtake the entire inside of the oven like The Blob or something, but the cake came out intact and the oven unscathed. Balancing the cake on a bottle to cool was a whole other adventure... and equally nerve wracking because at any minute Frye could jump on the counter, knock it over, and devour half of it. I had a fitful night of sleep, imagining noises signifying the destruction of our hard work, but thankfully the cake made it through the night.

It did not, however, make it out of the pan. The directions said to use an ungreased pan, and my bundt pan is super nonstick and super new, so I thought it wouldn't be a problem. But, as you can tell from the picture, it was. It would not come out of that pan. After much wriggling and prying with spoons, forks, knives, etc., I finally got the cake out, but it wasn't pretty. Usually, that's ok, because frosting hides all kinds of sins, but this cake was not meant to be frosted. Certainly it could be; Dr. Robinson mentions making a fudge frosting for hers since her guests at the time were chocolate lovers, and my grandma uses a cream cheese frosting on hers, but this cake was art, and I wanted it's true flavor and texture to be unobstructed. Sadly, this meant I had to present an ugly cake at lab meeting.

It actually didn't matter, though, because that cake was gone faster than anything I've ever brought in. I didn't even get a picture of the cut cake, and I was lucky to snag a couple pieces for Tim and Maureen as a thank you for their help with it. It got outstanding reviews, and for good reason. It was so soft and fluffy and light and just perfectly sweet enough... I want a bed made out of that cake. This was one troublesome cake that was worth it. If only I can figure out how to make it pretty next time...

I didn't read the chapter containing this recipe before I made the cake, but reading it now brings a little tear to my eye. Dr. Robinson made this cake the week of the anniversary of her mother's death, in honor of the horrendous angel food cake her mother once made for a student council luncheon. That cake was also ugly, and resulted in a mortifying cake debacle for the 3rd grade Dr. R. My cake is thus a fitting tribute: same cake, same disaster. I hope that angels really get to eat angel food cake, and that in heaven, all angel food cakes come out perfectly--golden, even, soft, pillowy, sweet and delicious. I hope Dr. R's mom is enjoying a perfect piece of angel food cake right now, smiling over the cake debacle and her daughter's efforts to honor her memory. And I definitely hope she saves a piece or two of that cake for us when we get there.

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!