Let Him Eat Cake!

For The Good Doctor's birthday, we undertook the undertaking of cake making. I was going to just buy a Nothing Bundt cake because for some reason, he loves those. But then I saw this lemon pound cake recipe in Real Simple and it seemed pretty, uh, simple so I was inspired to ask my dad to bring over a bundt pan. Then I couldn't find my magazine so I Googled lemon cake to find the recipe and this Sunset magazine recipe for a berry lemon cake came up and then Emmy said she wanted to make that instead. 

That was the roundabout way I arrived at Marshall's to buy two 9 inch springform cake pans. And almost gave a store worker a heart attack. I have never operated a springform pan. So when I saw the buckle, I unfastened it, natch. That sent the 9 inch metal bottom KAH-RASHING to the linoleum floor where it spun and clanged and rolled 10 feet away before I could scoop it up. Heh heh. Don't mind me. Doo da doo da doo.

Emmy helped measure the flour and did a little whisking before she became consumed with touching the fine white powder on the baking sheet I used as a catch-all. Because I'm anal and when you bake with a 3 year old, anality requires that you try to catch every spill before it happens. 

Somehow she still became a little powderface during the process.

Emmy assisted again after the cakes were baked. She is responsible for 94% of the berry placement on this cake. Not too shabby.

We kept it a secret until Emmy said, "Can I show Daddy his birthday cake?" right before dinner and the Official Birthday Cake Reveal Time. She's only 3 so I am cutting her some slack. Plus I didn't tell her to keep it a secret. There's something creepy about telling toddlers that something should be "our little secret."

But Asian Grandpa should know better. That still didn't prevent HIM from spilling the beans during dinner when he said, "We still have to go home and eat cake." Thanks Dad. Good one.

The Good Doctor probably had his suspicions anyway since he spotted the original cake pan I bought and left sitting on the counter so I wouldn't forget to return it because I got a better deal at Marshalls. I saved $8 but spoiled my own surprise with my unconvincing story that "Uh, my dad bought it. He thought uh we might need it. Uh but we don't." *shuffling past The Good Doctor to run upstairs*

Alas, the cake photographed better than it actually tasted I think. The lemon zest frosting and berries = tasty. The cake = dense as a mother. And dry like the sands of the Sahara. Well, not that bad but it was not a moist, fluffy cake. It was more of a thick, Russian grandmother I survived cold winters in Siberia by making soup from bark cake. Edible but nowhere near as delicious as the beautiful HOMEMADE black tea and chocolate macarons our neighbor gave us. And I don't even like macarons but these were gorgeous and scrumptious.

Maybe I can book her for next year.

Meantime, Happy Birthday to my favorite husband! Thank you for eating your cake slice without asking for a glass of water.