When my sister, Jenny, called me and asked me to bake a chocolate cake for my niece's first birthday there was no question I would do it. First, there's something about making a chocolate cake frosted in pastel pink and purple icing that unlocks this primal Martha Stewart urge inside of me. Second, who can say no to baking a cake for your niece?? I am only a year into this whole aunt business and I'm not about to shirk off any opportunity to spoil an unsuspecting Beth who, up until today, has yet to discover that I have better things to offer her than books and shiny toys.
Of course, I wait until this morning, the day of the party, to make the aforementioned chocolate cake. And, because I am a total overachiever, I have promised carrot cake cupcakes as well. Go figure. 9 A.M. and I am trucking away. Baking is a breeze! I melt yummy Ghiridelli chocolate over the stove, sampling liberally and fantasize about the elaborate message I am going to write on the cake.
I whip up the batter for the carrot cake in no time. I use the recipe from the Joy of Cooking figuring these classics are harder to mess up as I have never made either recipe before. The cupcakes are in the oven by 10:30 A.M. and I am feeling like a champ.
The devil's food chocolate cake recipe is for a 2 layer cake. I've never made a layer cake before but, hey, I'm feeling pretty good. It can't be that hard! My Martha alter ego is getting pretty out of control. I imagine the years of cakes that lay ahead: sculpted bunny cakes, kitschy doll cakes and triple layer stacked cakes topped by flowers. I can't imagine why people don't make more cakes! They're so easy!
Its 11:20 and the two layers of chocolate cake are in the oven. I'm beginning to get a little nervous about time as we have to be in south Austin at around 1 P.M. which doesn't really leave much room for the unexpected.
12 noon. Fantasy Martha has morphed into evil-Stepford-wife-Martha. I am pretty sure Ian is hiding from me as I have been charging dangerously around the kitchen for about half an hour. The cream cheese icing I have doubled is turning out to be a bit of a pain to make. Why didn't I buy those cute little containers of pre-made icing that spreads so smoothly and is magically pliable? My icing still feels like cream cheese. I take big breaths and remove my watch. The cakes aren't near being done yet even though they have been baked for the normal time. This is not good.
12:45 P.M. I am a crazy frosting machine. Nevermind that the cakes are not totally cooled and one layer is a bit crooked. Its now or never. I try to keep from crying at the thought of just making everyone split carrot cake cupcakes. "It will all come together" I chant over and over. I know these things just mysteriously comes together. I debate praying over this sloppy pink pile of cake. The cats are watching me in morbid fascination as if they are watching a car accident in slow motion.
1 P.M. By some alchemical process I still don't quite understand, I managed to successfully ice the still warm, lopsided cake with the help of a warm knife. Its not perfect but its passable. No writing just lots and lots of multi-colored sprinkles flung on this pink creation in a mad fury out the door. I'm pretty sure I have icing all over my skirt but I am beyond caring at this point. Why anyone would do this for fun I have no idea.
The cake is a success! Even though it didn't have a fancy message on it or flowers or anything, loaded with plenty of candles Beth was mesmerized. And once she tasted the chocolate-y goodness she loved it and fell asleep in her mama's arms soon after in a sugar overdose.
4 P.M. I come home with Ian to a completely trashed house and two bewildered cats surveying the wreckage that used to be our kitchen. I think I have definitely put in my time baking for the year. I brush the sprinkles off my skirt and fall into bed for a much deserved nap.
