Last night was a sublime evening. After cutting my way through the heat and humidity of this early DC summer, I made it home to a night with The Boy. We don’t get a lot of alone time anymore, what with him working part time at E Street Cinema (my favorite theater in this city, by the way) and me constantly covered in flour.  But he loves his part time job and his co-workers (and he finally has someone to discuss the subtle nuances of a Jim Jarmusch film – something that leaves me blinking at him absentmindedly) and I’m excited about all the possibilities with Whisked!  Yet there are days where we crawl into bed tired and admit how much we miss just hanging out together.

Because of this lack of quality time, I decided to take a break last night and just hang out with my Boy.  And since his birthday was the next day, we made it his unofficial, low key birthday dinner.  He brought home a bottle of sangria (sadly, not nearly as delicious as Brian’s signature sangria) for me and ginger beer and dark rum for him.  And we toasted his grand entrance into his 30s (he’s such a young’un, isn’t he?). 

I’ll be honest. I wanted to throw The Boy a big ol’ party to really shove him into his 3rd decade on this Earth. He, however, paled at the idea when I brought it up.  He doesn’t like being the center of attention, preferring to chill somewhere in the background. I asked if he wanted to go out for a celebratory dinner but he didn’t want to do that either. He said a quiet evening at home with me would be the perfect birthday celebration for him (see why I love him so much). 

So last night, I broke out some fresh peas from Garner’s Produce, a lovely bunch of mint, fresh fettuccine, some cream and a LOT of parmesan cheese to make this simple, divine Spring meal.  During a heat wave so oppressive, even the devil would complain about it. 

Pasta w/Fresh Peas, Mint and Cream (adapted from Epicurious)

• 16-ounce fresh pasta (I used fettuccine) 
• 1 1/4 cups heavy whipping cream
• 16 ounces fresh or frozen peas (if frozen, do not thaw them out)
• 2 1/4 cups grated Parmesan cheese (plus more to top the finished dish)
• 3 tbs chopped fresh mint
• 1/3 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley, divided
• 1 tsp freshly ground nutmeg

Bring a large pot of water to boil, salt it and add the fresh pasta to it to cook.  When the pasta is al dente (or your desired texture), drain it, reserving a 1/2 cup of the pasta water.

While the pasta is cooking, pour the heavy cream into a large saucepan and bring it to a simmer over medium heat.  Add the peas and cook until the peas are heated through and fragrant. 

Add the cheese and stir until it is melts fully into the cream.  Sprinkle in the nutmeg and salt and pepper to taste. Add the mint and half of the parsley and then remove the pan from the heat.

Toss the pasta with the cheese mixture (adding as much of the pasta water as you’d like to get your desired consistency). Top with additional cheese and the remaining parsley and serve!

There has been a lot going on around here lately…a lot.  And it all started, believe it or not, at the bake sale for the DC State Fair back in November.  I was dropping off my contribution and struck up a conversation with Robin Shuster, the market manager at 14th & U Farmers Market.  I mentioned how I was considering taking my baking to a professional level and she encouraged me to consider becoming a vendor at the market.  As luck would have it, Jenna from Modern Domestic happened to be volunteering at this same fateful bake sale.  Jenna and I had been talking back and forth about how hard it was to find an affordable commercial kitchen to rent.  When I told her about Robin’s suggestion, her response was simply: “Let’s do it!”  The rest, as they so often say, is history.

After months of researching, testing recipes, planning and navigating our way through the lengthy business license process, we have given birth to our baby. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you:

Getting Whisked! this far has been a true labor of love for Jenna and me.  It has involved endless hours of planning sessions, enough lists to wallpaper the White House and hours of head scratching as we’ve tried to understand the mountains of paperwork we had to fill out.  There have been times when I thought we would never get to the place where we are now.  And yet, here I am, announcing our new business.

So what exactly is Whisked! you may ask?  We are an online bakery that is embracing the American traditions of baking. I’ll be bringing my Southern roots to the table (there will be red velvet cake…true red velvet cake) while Jenna will be giving our treats a distinctively Pacific Northwestern flair (delicious, from scratch granola bars, anyone?).  Of course we’ll be offering cakes and cupcakes, but our menu is much more than that! Savory tarts using fresh, local produce; flaky hand pies that remind us all of our youth (I was a latch key kid…I had many, many, many Pop Tarts); oh so sweet fruit pies made from local fruit at the peak of its season; and of course fudge-tastic brownies!  Is your mouth watering yet?

And if that wasn’t enough excitement, Whisked! will also be selling at the 14th & U Farmers Market on Saturdays (for my local readers, the market is one block away from the U Street Metro station’s 13th Street exit)!  The first market of the season is May 7th and we’re working double time to have a stellar debut.  Customers will be able to place an order online for one of our awesome (if I do say so myself) menu items for pickup at the market on Saturday.  We will also offer delivery within the DC metro accessible area for orders $50 or more.  The website launches officially on May 2nd but here are a few pictures of what we’ll be offering (including that fabulous looking tart at the top):

I cannot tell you how proud I am of the work Jenna and I have done just getting this off the ground.  I have learned so much working alongside her these past few months and I know I will learn more in the years to come.  We’ve had the support of our amazing family, friends and the food blogger community in DC on the first leg of this journey.  Now the real work begins. And I’m sure I will have plenty to share both here (where I will be liberally swearing, per usual) and on the official Whisked! blog (also launching on May 2nd – with less swearing).  And you can also follow us on Twitter!

And if you’re in DC, come on out on May 7th and say hello to us! It will be our first market and we’d love to see all of your smiling faces!  We’ll have cookies, bar cookies, savory tarts, loaf breads and cupcakes – and samples!



To celebrate my 35th year on this Earth, we headed to Brooklyn for an extended weekend of food and fun.  To say we had a blast is an understatement…we fell in love with this borough.  We had such a wonderful time, I wasn’t sure where to start sharing with all of you.  But since the last moments were freshest in my mind, I decided to go backwards.  That and I had already written up this post in my mind and I was too lazy to fight my brain.

For our last meal in Brooklyn, the Boy and I headed over to Seersucker in the Carroll Gardens neighborhood of Brooklyn.  A mix of Southern and seasonal, Seersucker has been getting rave reviews since it first opened.  And it was consistently recommended by my foodie friends when I was creating our foodie itinerary for our trip.  So even though our stay was a whirlwind of activity, I made sure we snuck in to Seersucker before we bid adieu to our new favorite city.

When we came across it, I was a bit surprised at the location and the décor.  It’s tucked away in a residential part of Carroll Gardens, directly across from a park and a school (elementary from the looks of the young tykes running around on the playground).  Not only that, it’s a stone’s throw from the Carroll Street subway station, making it a perfect stopping point for commuters in the morning.  In fact, Seersucker starts offering Counter Culture coffee at 8 am and we saw plenty of people coming in for travel mugs of coffee to go.  And it was obvious these people were regulars, as the waitress/barista knew their names and chatted with them as she made their orders. 

For some reason, I had it in my head that Seersucker was going to be a more formal restaurant.  I’m still not sure how I conjured up this mental image but it couldn’t have been further from the truth.  Seersucker is clearly trying to make you feel at home.  The décor is laid back and casual, with plenty of light flooding the space.  Water comes in fancified (that’s a word a friend’s grandmother used for all things city related) mason jars and one bright flower adorns each table.  And the menu screams “Comfort Food” – catfish po’ boys, open faced fried chicken sandwiches, skillet macaroni and cheese.  These were foods straight out of my childhood and I couldn’t wait to dig in. 

When the Boy checked in at Seersucker on Foursquare, he noticed one of the “tips” listed said, “I can’t believe they have the nerve to call this Southern food.”  I feared the worst after hearing that and braced myself for disappointment.  I’m used to restaurants calling themselves Southern and being no more Southern than a Coney Island hotdog.  Or even worse, dredging every dish with gravy or deep frying it and calling it “traditional Southern fare”.  I like to think us Southerners use our fry daddy and gravy boat with a bit more discretion than that.  I was relieved to see there wasn’t a mention of gravy on their lunch menu and even more delighted to see “lightly sweetened iced tea” under their drink offerings.  I ordered the iced tea, again not hoping for much.  What I got was an exact replica of the sun tea my grandmother used to make on her porch during the hot Georgia Summers.  And while it wasn’t as sweet as my grandmother’s tea, it was sweet enough for me.  And truth be told, Southern tea can be a bit too heavy handed with the sugar.  With a tad bit more hope in my heart, I ordered the open faced fried chicken sandwich, while the Boy zeroed in on the catfish po’ boy. 

When the chicken sandwich came out, I had to snap a quick picture before digging in.  The chicken was juicy but a disservice was made to it by placing it on a piece of plain bread.  The bread soaked up much of the buttermilk dressing, which would have worked well with the crunch of the chicken.  And it wasn’t until I tasted the chicken not touching the bread that I got a kick of spices.  And that kick was a delight.  I eventually took the chicken off the bread and ate it alone.  While I could have handled a more aggressive spice mix, I can see how someone not familiar with Southern cooking would be put off by a stronger kick.  But let me tell you, it ain’t easy making fried chicken juicy on the inside and crispy on the outside.  That’s something you learn from your Southern grandma.  The accompanying mixed green salad had a tangy vinaigrette that elevated the simple greens to a more elegant playing field. 

I can see why someone would say this isn’t truly Southern food because it isn’t. It’s a hat tip to the way Southerners cook and embrace food in their everyday lives.  I suspect these dishes were crafted with an awareness of the New Yorkers they are cooking for while still trying to infuse the dishes with some Southern charm.  It’s just simple food, in a laid back atmosphere and I can’t argue with that.   

It’s been pretty quiet around here for the last few…okay nine months, hasn’t it? I would apologize for my lack of activity but endless articles have lamented bloggers apologizing for their absences.  So instead, I shall catch you up on my adventures and share with you my new vision for this space and my biggest adventure of all.

So what exactly has kept me away from blogging for so long? Well, in November, the Boy and I headed to Curacao for a little bit of rest and relaxation.  He played with a shark and I was felt up by a dolphin.  We both may have fallen in love with room service (our resort was almost an hour’s drive away from the main city area).  And I got quite possibly the worst pedicure of my life, all while listening to the spa employee’s convoluted love life (at one point she took out paper and pen to draw me a diagram of her relationships…I DIAGRAM, people!).

After living in DC for well over three years, I FINALLY was lucky enough to get my hands on a National Tree Lighting ticket.  It involved bartering a box of cookies for my co-worker’s extra ticket (she’s lived in DC less than a YEAR and she won the lottery for FIVE tickets).  And I must say, it truly put me in the Christmas spirit. There were carolers, free hot chocolate (we learned about this AFTER they ran out though) and smiling faces. Not to mention, it was the most efficiently run event I’ve ever been to in DC.  We moved through the line at lightning speed and were in our seats before you could say, “Have a holly, jolly Christmas”.

Most of my time, however, has been spent improving my baking skills.  And by improving my baking skills, I mean many, many hours of learning the science of baking and the art of decorating.  The results have been me purchasing a pink pair of Crocs (don’t you dare judge me) to allow my feet to keep up with the demands of my baking; me learning that Brawny can play a significant role in cake decorating; me learning that Williams-Sonoma is great for the casual cook but not very helpful for someone who is trying to bake at a more professional level; me learning that modeling chocolate is way cooler than fondant; and me discovering a true passion in my life.  I’ve also been pretty damn proud of what’s come out of my kitchen over the last few months:

I’ve had many, many laughs with friends and shared unbelievable sorrow and sadness with family.  I’ve witnessed the power of love and the heartache of saying goodbye.  I’ve watched the triumph of my sister’s successful fight against cancer (for the second time, mind you) and had the love of my life look me in the eye and ask me to spend the rest of my life with him.  Which leads me to where I am now.  In the middle of planning a wedding AND trying my hand at becoming a professional baker.  The wedding part has been easy…and actually kind of funny. So much so, I started (and then forgot about) a blog mocking the wedding industry.

This morning, as I was staring down at my Hello Kitty slippers (an awesome gift from an amazing friend), it hit me that all of the things that have happened over the last nine months would make a great story.  A story I wanted to share with the community I’ve grown to love here.  Sure it’s not a recipe or even strictly about food, but it’s about my adventures.  So why was I hiding away my observations about the ridiculousness of buying a wedding dress that looked like a duvet cover? Why was I not sharing my first disastrous attempts at making modeling chocolate or the rush I feel when I finish a successful cake?  Or how The Boy and I plan to celebrate our upcoming nuptials in high 1940s fashion?

This blog may have started out as a chronicle of my love of food but there are so many other stories I’d like to tell.  So these are the New Adventures…of Shaw Girl.

It has been quite the week over at FreshFarm Markets. Their Dupont Circle Farmers Market was named one of the best farmers markets for travelers by CNN (congratulations!!), highlighting a consumer’s ability to connect with the people who grow their food.  And on Thursday, one of their other standout markets, the FreshFarm Market by the White House, will host a stop on the Toyota Farm to Table Tour to kick off National Farmers Market Week (August 1 through August 7th).  The event will feature a line up of DC area chefs, displaying their skills at various demos throughout the market.  These demos will of course use the fresh produce, meats and dairy available at the market and will include free samples for market shoppers.  Even better, shoppers can get culinary inspiration for the many seasonal items the market has to offer.  Chefs will include David Varley of Bourbon Steak DC, Nora Pouilon of Restaurant Nora, Kyle Bailey of Birch and Barley and Ryan Wheeler of Restaurant Eve – just to name a few! 

And as if chef demos weren’t enough, Four Seasons Nursery will be giving away potted culinary herbs (for those who want to flex their green thumb) and there are chances to win prizes, including a culinary trip to Santa Barbara.  The fun starts at 3 pm on July 29th (that’s tomorrow) and lasts until 7 pm.  So take a work break or head over after work for a celebration of the vibrant farmers market community in DC!

The FreshFarm Market by the White House is located at 810 Vermont Avenue, NW.  For a map of the market location, click here.

My blogger buddy Sarah Jackson has been traveling around New Zealand and chronicling her tales for all of us to see (and read with mounting jealousy).  I have never actually met Sarah but we’ve formed a virtual friendship based on our shared love of cooking, absurd observations on life and bending the English language to suit our humorous needs.  I also implicitly trust Sarah’s palate (yes, I blindly trust a stranger’s taste buds…that’s the internets for you).  So when she waxed poetically about something called a flat white, I was intrigued.  Intrigued enough to search around the aforementioned internets for a local establishment that sold a close approximation of a flat white.

Oh wait…you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? Don’t be ashamed…I didn’t know what the hell Sarah was talking about when I first saw her flat white blog post.  A flat white is an espresso based drink that originated in New Zealand and Australia.  Steamed milk (apparently pulled from the bottom of a steaming pitcher…no, I don’t know what that means either) is poured over either a single or a double shot of espresso and handed over to an unsuspecting person to drink.  In Australia, it’s customarily served over a single shot but the kiwis do it differently.  They want you to temporarily lose the ability to blink, so they pour the milk over TWO shots of espresso.  Unlike a latte, there isn’t a lot of foam in a flat white (I guess that’s why it’s called a FLAT white), so you really get the essence of the coffee.  No hiding behind milk or other fillers here.  The result is a smooth and lovely drink that jacks you up so high, your hands start to shake.  Or at least that’s what happened to me.

I found two places in DC that served a flat white: Cassatt’s Kiwi Cafe in Arlington and Filter Coffeehouse & Espresso Bar in Dupont Circle.  I decided to try Filter first because, well, it wasn’t in Virginia.  And their reviews online were all pretty positive.  So on a very hot morning, I headed down to Filter…to get a hot coffee drink.  No one ever said I was logical.

Filter is in the bottom of a rowhouse on a quiet street in Dupont Circle.  If it wasn’t for the sidewalk sign, I would have walked right past it.  When I walked in, I immediately noticed the small amount of seating and worried I wouldn’t have a place to relax over my first flat white.  I ordered a flat white and almond croissant and tentatively told the barista it was for here.  I stood at a little bar near the entrance as I waited for my order to be made.  Just as “flat white” was called out, not one but two small tables opened up.  I snapped one up eagerly and situated myself.  As anyone who has eaten with me knows, I almost immediately take a few pictures of what I’m about to consume.  This was no exception, especially since I’d promised to report back to Sarah about my first flat white experience.  But I quickly put away my camera (sorry I didn’t get more pictures of Filter itself) so I could concentrate on this pretty cup of coffee before me.

I took a tentative sip and my eyes flew open.  This was a STRONG cup of joe…it was one step away from mainlining coffee straight into my arteries.  But there was absolutely no bitterness to the drink.  It had a soft, lovely texture and a rich, complex flavor of coffee beans.  I didn’t have to wade through a mountain of foam before hitting upon the actual espresso.  It was right up front, waving at me and offering me a chair to sit a spell.  Before I knew it, I’d polished off the entire cup (granted, they come in a small tulip cup).  Which naturally meant I had to order another…and another.

Since I’d brought along a book, I decided to slow down a bit and just enjoy the coffee and the relaxed atmosphere of Filter.  Even with a limited amount of seating, the staff doesn’t try to rush out the customers.  The baristas are friendly and I noticed regulars were greeted warmly.  And did I mention the free wi-fi (no password necessary)? I lingered for a while, engrossed in my book and the velvety goodness of my flat whites (let’s not discuss how many I consumed…it’s just better that way).  As I was ordering a flat white to go (don’t judge), I started talking to the owner, Rasheed.  He opened filter back in March after having moved from New York with the intent to open a coffeehouse.  I asked him if he liked living in DC and he said he did, even if he had been hit by a car while riding his bike recently (ouch!!).  We talked about my flat white interest, New Zealand, Germans and their love of unique eyeglass frames and the fact that I may never blink again.  Not that I cared.  I’d found my new favorite coffee drink and a nice little coffeehouse to feed my addiction.  I just hope my heart slows down soon…

I would like to take you readers on a trip back into Shaw Girl’s past, specifically to the year 1990.  I was a sophomore in high school, still rocking very high hair and questionable fashion choices.  I had a major crush on one Jason Perry, but my mother wouldn’t let me go out on a date with him (he drove a van and in her eyes that meant he had designs on deflowering her baby).  I hung out with a group of boys who fancied themselves a band, but they mostly just hung out in my best friend Daryl’s shed.  I was heavily into Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles books (remember children, vampires DON’T sparkle), which caused some of my teachers to worry I may be into the occult.  I wasn’t…I just imagined Lestat was a smokin’ hottie (NOT Tom Cruise).

Mostly, however, I immersed myself in music.  And by music, I mean the world of hair metal.  Oh yes my dear readers, I was a disciple of the school of hair bands. Motley Crue, Bang Tango, Scorpions, Ratt, Cinderella, Faster Pussycat, L.A. Guns, Gene Loves Jezebel…all of their tapes (yes TAPES) had a place in my duffle bag of music. I stayed up late to watch Headbanger’s Ball on MTV so I could get a glimpse of my favorite bands. I poured over magazines like Circus, Metal Edge and Spin…mostly for items to add to my Guns n’ Roses scrapbook (yeah, you read that right…don’t judge me if I still have it).  And I one day dreamed that I too would take Tawny Kitaen’s place on a car hood in a music video.  I know that’s wrong, but at the time, I didn’t care.  Tawny was my hero…that is until I saw this video:

Yes, the song objectifies women and is brazenly sexual. Yes, Jani Lane (the lead singer of Warrant for the uninformed) is now a struggling alcoholic. And yes, I have no idea why American Gothic makes an “appearance” in this video. But back in 1990, none of that mattered. All I cared about was the catchy beat and the fact that the line, “So I mixed up the batter and she licked the beater” somehow seemed naughty. And back then, all I needed were dirty words and a scorching guitar riff to get me dancing.

All of this was going through my head as I was pitting cherries for a homemade cherry pie.  I’ve always wanted to make a cherry pie from scratch but never cottoned to the idea of pitting four cups of cherries.  I also didn’t like the idea of buying a cherry pitter, as it’s a unitasker.  But after reading all of the other ways to remove the pit from a cherry, I decided to borrow a pitter from Brian.  And man, am I in love!

The pitter shoots the pit right through the cherry with minimal damage to the cherry itself. Before I knew it, we had pitted all the cherries and I was ready to move on to making my pie. Which may or may not have included a few Cherry Pie dancing interludes.

On this day some 29 years ago, The Boy made his debut in this world.  He didn’t come in tap dancing or wearing a fedora, but I still think it was a milestone.  So let’s take a look at what exactly makes The Boy tick:

• He loves movies…and when I say he loves movies, I mean he LOVES movies. So much so, he created a blog where he can ramble…I mean discuss his love of film.
• He didn’t always wear hats. It wasn’t until a woman told him he could carry off a fedora that he placed his first chapeau atop his head.  I think it was because he was trying to get her into bed.  Whatevs…
• He loves Batman…a LOT (please see the cake candle above). 

• He’s a kick ass uncle. His nephew is hilarious and The Boy seems to thrive when the two get together to play. 
• He’s VERY handy…he made our fucking dining room table!! I want him to make a bookshelf in the shape of a TARDIS. He keeps pretending he can’t hear me.
• He doesn’t like mushrooms…or sushi.  It’s a texture thing he claims. I think he’s a loon.
• He makes our cats talk…and most recently recite very bad poetry related to noms.
• He’s a huge Kurosawa fan. And he loves nothing more than to introduce others to Kurosawa’s body of work. 
• It takes a LOT to get him angry.  Believe me, I’ve tried.
• He’s got the most beautiful eyes I think I’ve ever seen. And he uses them to his advantage (oh yeah, I’m on to you).
• He’s a very patient, level headed driver…even in DC.
• He has a thing for cool, out of the ordinary t-shirts.  Like this one.

• People assume he enjoys a bit of the herbal refreshment (if you get my drift) because he’s so laid back. He doesn’t…he’s just cool like that.
• He’s hands down one of the nicest, sweetest guys you will ever meet.

One last thing that makes him tick? He LOVES bananas…so much so, it’s almost…well bananas.  So when Nikki Rappaport made banana cupcakes for the Bake Sale for Haiti, I knew what I was going to make him for his birthday.  As luck would have it, Nikki’s boyfriend is also a banana fiend and she made him a banana layer cake with cream cheese frosting for his birthday.  She gave me the link to the recipe and told me he would love it.  She was dead on.  I made the cake for The Boy on Saturday and he went…well bananas. 

So this post is for you, my sweet, sweet Boy.  Happy Birthday and thank you for being the most kick ass partner a girl could ever have.

Pea season is in full swing here in DC and I couldn’t be happier. Peas are one of my favorite vegetables and I practically OD on them when they are in season.  Last year, I froze a huge batch of fresh English peas which lasted me almost all Winter.  But nothing beats picking up a big container of fresh peas from the market on a Saturday morning.  Last Saturday, Garner’s Produce had English peas in the pod for the first time this season.  Although I like shelling peas, I was happy to pick up two boxes of shelled peas for a recipe I saw online during Snowpocalypse.  The recipe was from one of my favorite celebrity chefs, Mario Batali.

Mario’s recipes always highlight the flavors of his ingredients, letting the most mundane of them shine brightly.  I admit peas are not all that glamorous…they tend to get the short end of the stick really.  Whenever you see a child on television, gloomily sitting over his half eaten dinner, there’s a high chance peas are on his plate.  I personally blame that kid’s parents for this situation. Peas, when not properly cooked, can taste bland and downright mushy.  But when you do right by them, they will do right by you.  And this recipe truly knows how to seduce the lovely flavors from fresh peas.

I whipped this dish up for dinner tonight in less than 40 minutes…BUT I made my pappardelle from scratch. If you just use store bought pasta, this comes together in under 20 minutes.  If you don’t have access to fresh peas, frozen will do in a pinch. But for the love of God, stay away from those canned monstrosities in the “vegetable” aisle of the grocery store.  Trust me on that one…

On Sunday evening, at around 5:13 pm, I had a frosting related nervous breakdown.  This breakdown involved near tears, a wayward icing knife and a big ol’ mixing bowl of butter cream.  How did I come to such a lowly state? Let’s start from the beginning (times are an approximation…it was all a haze):

On May 13, 2010, as I was sitting at my desk at work, the idea of making a strawberry layer cake popped into my head.  Thinking I could use my favorite vanilla cake recipe, I decided to pick up some strawberries on Saturday at the 14th & U Farmers Market to turn said cake idea into a reality.

On May 15, 2010, I pick up some lovely strawberries from Garner’s Produce for said cake idea.  The rest of the day is spent enjoying the National Zoo, free wi-fi at Tonic (I’ve been told I get way too excited when I find a wi-fi hotspot…I don’t disagree with that assessment) and pointing out issues with the latest Dr. Who episode.

On May 16, 2010 (starting at 9:25 am), I spend the morning lazing about and thinking about my cake baking/decorating strategy.  I read over Joy’s post on frosting a cake, making sure to note all the tips she suggests for a painless, beautiful frosting experience.  On more than one occasion, the thought, “This won’t be hard” pops into my head.  I will live to regret that flippant attitude.

At 12:00 pm, I start chopping up strawberries while listening to Warner Herzog’s interesting spin on documentary narration.  I keep waiting for him to burst out into “This is Sprockets!”

At 12:13 pm, I make a strawberry filling using strawberries, water, sugar and corn starch.  When I think it’s thick enough, I take it off the heat and set it aside to cool.  This turns out to be a mistake.

At 12:35 pm, I painstakingly set up the mise en place for the cake ingredients.  Since I’m using my go-to cake recipe, whipping up the cake batter is relatively painless.  This lulls me into a false sense of security as I place the cakes (my dumb ass only used TWO cake pans, when I should have used three…I’m a moron) in the oven and sit down to pay full attention to Herr Herzog.

At 1:27 pm, I check on the cakes and am surprised to find they are still jiggly in the middle.  This raises the first red flag in my head, as it usually only takes 25 minutes to bake these cakes.  I reset the timer for five minutes and go back to the couch.

At 1:34 pm, I check again on the cakes…still jiggling like Pamela Anderson’s breasts.  Panic begins to creep up in the back of my neck.  I brush it aside, thinking, “Perhaps I should have poured some of the batter into a third pan.”  I reset the timer for another five minutes.

At 1:36 pm, I check on the strawberry filling…and discover it hasn’t thickened at all! What the hell?!?!? The panic pushes its way back up to my neck, almost laughing at me.  I’ll just add more cornstarch, I think.  I set the pot back on the stove, add another teaspoon of cornstarch and start whisking.

At 1:42 pm, the cakes are STILL jiggling in the center, the strawberry filling looks like red snot and I haven’t even started on the butter cream.  And where the hell is the pedestal to my cake stand??????

At 1:47 pm, the cake starts to firm up BUT it’s also starting to get a little bit more brown than I’d like.  Wait, is that side starting to burn a little??? AND WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THIS STRAWBERRY FILLING????

At 1:53 pm, the cakes are finally done (cake testers confirm this).  In desperation, I throw the strawberry filling into the refrigerator, hoping the cold will thicken it up a bit.

At 1:59 pm, I start on the butter cream, which is also a go-to recipe.  All is well as I’m whipping up the batch of frosting.  That is until I realize the resulting batch won’t be enough to frost the entire cake.  That damn panic’s now up to the nape of my neck, taunting me.  I scramble around to make another batch.  Then I’m struck with “inspiration” and decide to put some of the strawberry filling into the butter cream.  This will turn out to be another mistake.

At 2:13 pm, I sit down again and pray that the voices of panic will SHUT THE FUCK UP!

At 3:03 pm, I start making our lunch for the week: cream of asparagus soup with green garlic.  I am trying my hardest not to think about the cake or how the hell I plan to decorate it.  Especially when I discover I CAN’T FIND MY PASTRY BAGS!!!! AND WHERE THE HELL IS THE PEDESTAL TO MY CAKE STAND?????

At 4:35 pm, I decide to start frosting the cake.  At this very moment, I also can’t seem to find my flat icing knife and instead must use the bent one.  In my mad dash through our gadget drawer, I pitch the box grater out in hopes of finding my flat icing knife.  When I don’t find it, I leave a trail of gadgets on the counter as I walk away with the bowl of frosting.  The Boy is left to put the gadgets back into a semblance of order…he senses the coming storm and wisely decides to stay out of my way.

At 4:45 pm, I create a fortress of frosting on the top of the first cake layer to keep the filling from oozing out.  This will turn out to fail miserably.  I try to take a few pictures but am tired, have poor lighting at my dining room table and overall, just don’t give a shit anymore.

At 5:13 pm, I curse the day I ever thought this was a good idea.  Strawberry filling is oozing out like a festering wound.  The butter cream is separating because SOMEONE thought adding some filling to it would be a good idea.  The damn frosting won’t stay on the sides and The Boy is just looking on in horror.

At 5:27 pm, I realize I’ve lost the battle and just slather on the last of the frosting.  I get the cake to look as normal as possible, top it with strawberries and half heartedly attempt to take pictures of it.  The lighting sucks no matter where I put the damn cake and I just don’t care at this point.  I cut a slice off for The Boy to eat and walk away in a daze.

I faintly hear him say it tastes good, but I’m too far gone.  I’m in pastry shell shock and all I can do is stare at the wall and occasionally blink.  At some point I take a bite of the cake and I’m snatched out of my stupor.  It tastes incredible.  The frosting is delicious, even though it doesn’t stick to the sides all the time.  The filling is bursting with strawberry goodness and it (finally) thickened to the perfect consistency.  And the cake itself is moist and vanillalicious.  I just wish it didn’t look like a four year old’s craft project.