White cake with strawberries and meyer lemon/vanilla frosting
Cakes
I’m gonna sit here and complain about something that pretty much everyone has to deal with, and you’re gonna listen. All set? <br /> <br />Great. <br /> <br />I can’t get the cakes I make to look like the ones in my head. In there, there’s no effort, no mess. I sweep my hands across the counter a couple of times like a weird little frosting magician, and boom: there’s a cake. The perfect cake. The inside is moist, the outside looks like it’s carved out of freaking alabaster; hell, even the lighting is perfect. <br /> <br />But as soon as I try to make it in real life, it all goes wrong. The last cake I tried to make looked less like a cake and a lot more like a meth lab with added sugar. And yes, maybe I tried to add some things I shouldn’t have to the icing, and maybe some of those things (preserved lemons, for those of you keeping score in this completely hypothetical example) utterly destroyed the integrity of said icing and melted it beyond recognition. The point is, in my head it looked perfect, and in real life it looks like poop. <br /> <br />And I’m sick of the disparity between the two. <br /> <br />So this week I sat down, got mad, and threw enough powdered sugar at my mixer to take a diabetic’s leg clean off. And yes, I’m aware that it’s insane to be angry at a pastry, or have…really any feelings towards a pastry, but I was in full-on Spartacus at the gates mode here. It was war time. <br /> <br />Maybe there were speeches made to my spatula at 1 am, but we’re gonna keep that between ourselves. <br /> <br />Me and the spatula, that is. <br /> <br />I’ve named him Spready. <br />
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