The birthday, the cake, and sacrifical love
Saturday was Patrick's birthday. We were blessed to go to Mass in the morning -- and doubly blessed to be able to run into a certain red-haired Sister friend of ours while there -- and then get ready for his birthday party. He took off to the grocery store, and Noah and I began a cake-making flurry of activity. {That baby of mine, he does make lovely company in what seems like whole days in the kitchen.}
I am not my sister. She bakes cakes professionally. She makes fondant from scratch and little Disney people from moldable chocolate as cake toppers. She... well... wouldn't have made this.
My little Kodak Easy Share doesn't do justice to just how darn ugly this cake was! I don't blame myself entirely; here's what happened.
Three days before Birthday:
Me: You'll want a cheesecake again this year, right?
Husband Dear: No, don't worry about that. A plain white cake would be fine.
Me (in sweet wife-y tone): But cheesecake is your favourite! And I would be happy to make you one.
HD: Oh it's not that important to me. Birthdays are nice, but it's more important to celebrate feast days for me.
Me (less sweet and wife-y, more defensive, slightly annoyed): But it is a feast day! Our Lady of Guadalupe!
HD: No really, I would love a plain white cake, but with lots of icing.
Me: Okay, that I can do.
I couldn't stomach the thought of my husband humbling himself out of a winning birthday cake! I know he's really hooked on Nourishing Traditions, but I wanted to throw some butter, all-purpose flour and loads of refined sugar at him as an expression of my love for him and gratitude for all he does.
Can't I spoil him? Just once?
So the promise that I could load it up with icing piqued my interest.
What I didn't know was he wanted a layer cake, coated with icing on top, bottom and middle. I don't even have the pans to do that! A quick call to my mother-in-law, and she promised to rescue me. Yet she couldn't bring them over until she arrived for the party.
She came with my brother-in-law. I had the batter all ready to bake. We ate our lovely dinner, lit our Advent wreath and I preheated the oven to finally get the cake baked. You know, about 30 minutes before we the time would like to eat it.
{Can I note that I have since learned, always, always, bake the cake the day before? Or at least, that morning? NOT during dinner when you intend it to be for dessert! And when you expect it to still look presentable within such a short span of time!}
Then it was bedtime for Noah. I dashed off with him, leaving Patrick instructions on when to take the cake out, and how to test it. Not exactly the romantic "look-at-the-cake-I-made-you" moment when the husband is left guarding it himself!
Yet I managed to return, having got the baby fast asleep, in time to take it out myself.
I was hoodwinked by Noah waking up in tears, however, before I was able to tend to it. Patrick was left to remove the cake from the pans, and some got stuck. It had that slightly rough and tumble look.
Oh well, I thought. Slap some icing on it and no one will be the wiser.
Except it had to cool.
So we stacked the layers on a plate, placed them in the fridge and made the tea. What we hadn't thought of, though, was that the cake layers would stick to the plates, and that they would be upside down. They cracked, split and turned into mounds of cake-y shrapnel all over the plate, the counter, and our hands (mine and Patrick's) as we tried to assemble it into an artistic layer.
Icing was thrown on top in a despairing manner at this point. Plus, I think my blood sugar had dropped, leaving me no patience for making anything beautiful.
Ice cream to the rescue! Heaps and heaps of it on an ugly, yet delicious, cake. All was well.
BTW, if you live in the Maritimes, you just must buy this ice cream.
Shame on Chapman's, that freaky Ontario artificial concoction.
Support your much more delicious local ice cream!
Patrick smiled that night when his family departed and said "I don't think I've had a birthday party in years" (having been away at university and all). "Thanks, that was lovely."
Hmmm... love really does cover a multitude of sins.
I am not my sister. She bakes cakes professionally. She makes fondant from scratch and little Disney people from moldable chocolate as cake toppers. She... well... wouldn't have made this.
My little Kodak Easy Share doesn't do justice to just how darn ugly this cake was! I don't blame myself entirely; here's what happened.Three days before Birthday:
Me: You'll want a cheesecake again this year, right?
Husband Dear: No, don't worry about that. A plain white cake would be fine.
Me (in sweet wife-y tone): But cheesecake is your favourite! And I would be happy to make you one.
HD: Oh it's not that important to me. Birthdays are nice, but it's more important to celebrate feast days for me.
Me (less sweet and wife-y, more defensive, slightly annoyed): But it is a feast day! Our Lady of Guadalupe!
HD: No really, I would love a plain white cake, but with lots of icing.
Me: Okay, that I can do.
I couldn't stomach the thought of my husband humbling himself out of a winning birthday cake! I know he's really hooked on Nourishing Traditions, but I wanted to throw some butter, all-purpose flour and loads of refined sugar at him as an expression of my love for him and gratitude for all he does.
Can't I spoil him? Just once?
So the promise that I could load it up with icing piqued my interest.
What I didn't know was he wanted a layer cake, coated with icing on top, bottom and middle. I don't even have the pans to do that! A quick call to my mother-in-law, and she promised to rescue me. Yet she couldn't bring them over until she arrived for the party.
She came with my brother-in-law. I had the batter all ready to bake. We ate our lovely dinner, lit our Advent wreath and I preheated the oven to finally get the cake baked. You know, about 30 minutes before we the time would like to eat it.
{Can I note that I have since learned, always, always, bake the cake the day before? Or at least, that morning? NOT during dinner when you intend it to be for dessert! And when you expect it to still look presentable within such a short span of time!}Then it was bedtime for Noah. I dashed off with him, leaving Patrick instructions on when to take the cake out, and how to test it. Not exactly the romantic "look-at-the-cake-I-made-you" moment when the husband is left guarding it himself!
Yet I managed to return, having got the baby fast asleep, in time to take it out myself.
I was hoodwinked by Noah waking up in tears, however, before I was able to tend to it. Patrick was left to remove the cake from the pans, and some got stuck. It had that slightly rough and tumble look.
Oh well, I thought. Slap some icing on it and no one will be the wiser.
Except it had to cool.
So we stacked the layers on a plate, placed them in the fridge and made the tea. What we hadn't thought of, though, was that the cake layers would stick to the plates, and that they would be upside down. They cracked, split and turned into mounds of cake-y shrapnel all over the plate, the counter, and our hands (mine and Patrick's) as we tried to assemble it into an artistic layer.
Icing was thrown on top in a despairing manner at this point. Plus, I think my blood sugar had dropped, leaving me no patience for making anything beautiful.Ice cream to the rescue! Heaps and heaps of it on an ugly, yet delicious, cake. All was well.
BTW, if you live in the Maritimes, you just must buy this ice cream.Shame on Chapman's, that freaky Ontario artificial concoction.
Support your much more delicious local ice cream!
Patrick smiled that night when his family departed and said "I don't think I've had a birthday party in years" (having been away at university and all). "Thanks, that was lovely."
Hmmm... love really does cover a multitude of sins.
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