Cakes keep appearing around here. It's a bit like magic, really. A pour and a mix here... a scrape and a slide there... and suddenly a cake is sitting closeby. Is it just right? Is it moist? I'll sneak a forkful and chew and shake my head and pour, mix, scrape, and slide again until, finally, it's just right. Not ready to photograph, of course, but yummy nonetheless.
This one is Gingerbread Cake with waves of Cinnamon Chocolate. It's served in a pool of chocolate sauce and piled high with cinnamon-dusted whipped cream. Last night, after it had dried a bit (due to my careless storage method), a friend and I cut slices and she doused them with cream. She's done it since 1978, she said, when she lived in England and watched them habitually drown things in pools of cream. Yum. The English are brilliant.
Yup, cakes everywhere. I'm really trying to wrap up the cookbook so I can move on to something else. I have this fear, though... I really do... that the moment the book is done and sent off I'll think of something amazing I've left out. I've lost countless hours walking myself through my childhood meals and treats wondering, what was my favorite? What was the most memorable? Delicious? It's wonderful, actually. A wonderful exercise... to think back on the meals and foods that were most important or delightful growing up. Some of mine were biscuits, chocolate cake, southern smothered steak, and mashed potatoes.
What were yours?
Better run. Have a list of very pleasant chores to tackle today. Well, except for mowing the yard. We all know what an ordeal that is for me.
Enjoy your day! -Brin