Confession Time: Cakes, Cakes, and More Cakes

I try pretty hard to be healthy on a regular basis. I eat a fairly reasonable amount of sweets. Sure, I have fibromyalgia, but I also exercise just about daily. I floss. I brush my teeth twice a day. I once gave an impromptu lecture on how to determine which types of yogurts were healthiest to my foster kiddos who preferred yogurts that were essentially the equivalent of almost eating a snickers for breakfast. I know. I’m a killjoy.

I also love cakes.

I mean, love cakes. I can and have eaten cake for breakfast. When I get a hankering for a sweet, I invariably want a slice of cake (or brownie!) with a creamy delicious buttercream frosting over that snickers bar or even that bar of delectable 70% dark chocolate. When I crave something sweet, I’m really craving cake—even if I don’t tend to admit it much.

No more, here I am in all my trying-to-be-healthy glory confessing that I absolutely love cake.

Some of my friends know this better than others. My friend Alex got a book about mixing and matching cake recipes, and she’s baked several excellent cakes from it. How do I know they’re excellent? Mostly because I am an embarrassing idiot whenever I come into even remote proximity to a delicious cake. That, and I may have posted on her Facebook about how perfectly scrumptious a particular cake looked, and being the wonderful, caring, sweet, thoughtful friend that she is, she brought me over a couple of slices. (My husband is pretty darn lucky that second slice survived for him.)

Ever since I raved about those slices of cake, Alex has brought me some leftover cake whenever she makes it. (Did I mention that she’s delightfully thoughtful?) I have been equally lavish in my praise of these cakes and in my gratitude each time she’s brought me cake. I’ve devoured pretty much every piece she’s brought… that wasn’t designated for my husband. I love him more than I love cake.

When my husband’s birthday rolled around and we had two foster kiddos with us, one of whom has an impending birthday as well, I decided to buy the magical recipe book from which Alex has produced so many dulcet cakes.

Yes. I now own the cake book! The book isn’t called Cake Magic! for just any ol’ reason. The mix-and-match combinations are bewitching. Honestly, I can’t believe how long it took me to buy the book. Maybe I recognized in advance what a slippery slope such a purchase would create.

After flipping through the book with the girls, we picked out Dream Cake (coconut-chocolate chip cake with a sweet cream syrup and salted caramel frosting) to make for my husband’s birthday. He loves coconut. We all loved the cake, and I set aside two pieces for my friend and her husband because she’d never made Dream Cake.

In the throes of baking and sampling, I may have begun raving wildly about how I would make a cake every week for Shabbat. My husband managed to bring me back to my senses by quipping that I’d gain back the weight I’d lost if I made a cake each week. Point taken, though the girls haven’t quite let him forget how he worded his injunction.

So, that’ll be two cakes a month then. The girls and I have already picked out our next one:  Spicy Hot Chocolate Cake (darkest chocolate cake with sweet and smoky chile syrup and a malted milk chocolate frosting). And, of course, we’ve already picked out the cake for our birthday girl in April:  Creamy Caramel Cake (vanilla cake with milky caramel syrup and salted caramel frosting). If I sound obsessed, it’s because, well, I am. I mean, cake!

May your day be as sweet as mine will be when I make my family’s next cake!

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Sorry I don’t have pictures of the cake; I was too busy eating it.
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