To Bake A Cake
I love to bake. The primary reason I made Gracey Daylittle a pie baker is because it gave me an excuse to make lots of pie in the name of research.
But I, myself, am primarily a bread and cake baker.
Today is my husband’s 35th birthday, and I am making him an Italian cream cake. When I asked him what kind of cake he wanted, he replied, “Anything with cream cheese frosting.”
His wish. My command.
While I watch I Am Legend, the cake is in the oven. It smells like heaven. Butter, toasted sugar, coconut.
We are a household of fall birthdays. In mid September, my husband came home from work, walked into the pantry and said, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
I looked up from my book, confused. “I“m sorry?”
“There are four boxes of cake flour in here,” he said. “What do you need four boxes of cake flour for?”
I smiled, shook my head. It was like he didn’t even know me. We’ve spent the past 14 years of our lives together, and he can ask a question like that in all seriousness? “Birthday season,” was all I said.
But baking cake in this house isn’t the easiest thing on the planet. Although I was very clear about my kitchen and counter space requirements when we built this house, sometimes you have to compromise. I exchanged more bedrooms upstairs (where the children live) for a smaller kitchen without as much space as I would have liked. And that I could live with.
Unfortunately, four out of the six outlets in my kitchen don’t work. Or rather, I’m sure they work just fine, but some GFI switch or some breaker or something is tripped and I in all my electrical uselessness cannot figure out how to get the outlets to pump juice. Four out of six. And when you consider I need coffee grinder, KitchenAid mixer, laptop (for viewing recipes) and who knows what else, you realize a girl needs outlets that work.
Add to that the fact that I have only one oven (for shame) and that almost none of my cake pans match (tragedy!) and you get less than ideal baking conditions.
It’s okay, though. I’m always up for a challenge.
Two minutes left on the timer. My house never smelled so good.


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