The cake I baked yesterday was nearly the antithesis of this quote. I began baking it—setting the espresso pot on the stove, melting the dark chocolate in the double boiler—around 5pm. Anyone who has cared for a baby for 24 hours will tell you never, ever attempt to do anything two hours before bedtime.
Oh, but dense, rich, five eggs ‘n many sticks of butter cake sounded like it would solve so many things. Betty and I were on the same page, this cake would be transformative…except I was baking the cake for myself and would not be stopped.
Joe came home to a kitchen with cake-in-progress written all over it, leftover chicken pot pie burning in the oven, a crying baby, and a wife who had forgotten how to say, “Welcome home!” and instead said, “Why can’t you come home before 7pm???” And the cake tasted like Betty Crocker’s dismal red cardboard box legacy because fatigue and anger came to eat at the table too. (I know this sounds like a bad rendition of a poorly remembered Bible verse, but I promise it was the case. It was a sad scene.)
Fortunately for the recipe‘s reputation, it was still here today. After glaring at it, I cut a slice and added the leftover raspberries from brunch this morning. And shared it with Joe, who had graciously accepted my apologies for nearly sacrificing our family’s weekend on an alter of chocolate. It was dense and nearly-bittersweet with chocolate and had crumb and yet somehow fudgey…..all the things I hoped it would be and this time I could really taste it.
If I get that urge again after 3pm, I’m buying a snickers bar.
Anyway, check your cake baking motives, friends. And once you have, take a look at this beer & wheat flour & maple syrup cake recipe. I think I know what I’m doing next Friday morning…