Let Them Eat Yellow Cake

The saying "it's a piece of cake" means that something is easy. Not just easy, easier than a piece of cake. What I want to know is what about making a cake is easy? Eating cake--totally doable. But what it takes (at least for me) to go from beginning to end with a layer cake cannot be described as easy. I am a disaster with layer cakes. I tried to list and describe my many failures in the baking department (specifically cake baking), but the list is too long and the stories too complicated. I've had frosting all over the counter and broken cake layers and never once a beautiful, perfectly frosted, cake that's cooked through. But I do love a mess, so here we go. Megan's birthday is Saturday. There was no way I wasn't going to make her a cake. She's a great roommate, among the best. She always loves the stuff I cook. And by god, she is going to have a yellow cake with chocolate frosting if it's the last thing I do. To achieve this goal, I knew I had to do something I so rarely do. Something I find difficult. I would have to follow the directions.

When the directions said to sift the flour, I sifted the flour. (That's how much I love you Megan, I sifted flour for you.) I used two separate bowls (ones I still haven't cleaned). I even rotated the cakes in the oven halfway through. I never do that.

Except I'm not perfect. And neither is this cake. When the directions said to cut out parchment and spray the cake pans, I ignored it because we don't have parchment or Pam. I thought butter would do the trick. Well, it didn't. Tapping and shaking and gravity only worked on one of the layers. Right now, the last cake layer is sitting upside down on the kitchen counter, still attached to the cake pan. I might try singing songs to coax it onto the plate, but I'm not too optimistic at this point about not breaking the second layer into several pieces. However, the redeeming factor with cakes is that enough frosting and no one will ever know.

Yellow Cake: from Joy of Baking 6 large egg yolks 1 cup milk 2 teaspoons vanilla 3 cups flour, sifted 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar 1 T and 1 t baking powder 3/4 teapsoons salt 12 tablespoons unsalted butter Frosting: Betty Crocker chocolate frosting knife Preheat oven to 350. In a medium mixing bowl, whisk egg yolks, vanilla and 1/4 cup of milk. According to JoyofBaking.com, the difference between white cakes and yellow cakes is that yellow cakes us yolks and white cakes use the entire egg. Fascinating. In a large bowl, stir together dry ingredients. Add softened butter and blend with an electric mixer on low increasing to high for up to a minute. Add the rest of the milk and mix again, starting on low and increasing speed. For easy removal post-baking, cut out pieces of parchment paper to fit into cake pans, spray pans and paper with Pam. Gradually add in the egg mixture, beating until the batter is smooth. With a spatula, transfer batter to two 9-inch round cake pans. Even out the batter by giving the pans a good shake. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes until a toothpick comes out clean. Rotate cakes halfway through. Allow layers to cool before removing from pans. When the cakes are cooled, I use a knife to run around the edge of the cake between the cake and the pan. Using a serving plate, place the plate upside down on top of the cake pan, with the top of the plate facing the cake. Carefully turn the pan and plate over in your hands so that the plate is right side up and the pan is upside down. Tap on the bottom of the cake pan to loosen the cake. Do this to the other cake. Ice the cake (I have no advice to give here). Eat the cake.

Birthday Wishes

So Monday was my birthday. The day marking the monumental 25th birthday has come and gone with less pomp and circumstance than an ego-centric, attention-loving person such as myself would hope for in her wildest dreams. And thus begins what I have decided will be the best year of my life to date. Highlights: Emily made me a birthday cake (How freaking cute is she?! Fifteen-year-old following in her older sister's footsteps, improvising cake recipes and everything.) My other sister (Al) made me an ottoman. And not, as you may be imagining, a piece of wood nailed to some planks. It looks like it should be sold at Target, nay, Pottery Barn, on third thought, it is way too cool for all of those places. For dinner, we went out for Thai food at Thai Spice. Yum. Emily ordered phad thai--and liked it. She said while looking at the menu, "I don't like Chinese food." What?! Who doesn't like Americanized Chinese food? It's fried and loaded with sugar and salt. After we teased her for being too picky, I thought we were in trouble for sure. But she ate nearly half of the phad thai and left the remainder in my fridge.

Here's an almost really cute photo of me and Megan. Except for my wonky eye!!!! Which I totally deserve because just last night I was making fun of this girl-who-dated-this-boy-I-really-liked's eye while looking at her facebook profile. Karma.

Al and I both ordered green curry, which was good and spicy (but not this spicy). And while it was good and savory and everything great about green curry, it's still not Pee Lek's green curry. No one makes green curry like your adopted Thai mother.

You may be scrolling through these photos and thinking "Wow, it looks like Lainey and her sisters and roommate are having a splendid time." (We did). "But where are her parents?" Strange, where are those sires on such a momentus occasion? Did Lainey finally achieve her lifelong dream of becoming an orphan just like her childhood heroes Annie, Anne of Green Gables and Heidi? No. The padres skipped town on a "much needed" holiday to swoosh down ski slopes and purchase cowboy boots in Steamboat Springs, Colo. Before I am the recipient of an enormous guilt trip in a few hours (Does this post hit too close to home? Is it too soon?), let me digress.

My birthday is never fails to turn into a giant family drama, pitting me against my dear-and-loving mother with my sisters caught in the middle and my dad (the supposed) true cause of it all (not sure I believe that). Last year on my birthday we were in the car for 12 hours (granted it was on the way to go skiing in Colorado ... details). The year before that, hey, it was pretty good. The year before that--another 12-hour car ride. The year before that, January blizzard that shut down the entire city.

I, of course, never miss a chance to make these people feel bad about slighting me on the one day a year that we can universally acknowledge is all about me. But seriously, I get the shaft (except for those legendary birthday parties sledding at Mahoney State Park back in elementary school).

Now, I know that my birthday comes on the day that the holidays are officially over. Everybody is going back to school/work. It's cold out. We've all eaten more than we should, shopped more than we like and gone to more parties than is reasonable. Yet I reserve the right to be irritated that my padres left town on purpose (maybe), so they didn't have to celebrate. And weren't even nice about it.

My one consolation: knowing that they would have had way more fun on vacation with me and my sisters because we are hilarious.

And here's a random photo of icing ...