Tomorrow is my husband’s birthday, and thanks to my mother’s tips, I realized I needed to make the cake tonight to give it adequate time to cool. Here’s how you would have found me at nine o’clock tonight:
Travis took this and was, I think, impressed by my appearance of competency.
In all reality, the purple Nike socks, the pile of grocery bags on the floor behind me and the shavings of chocolate all over the floor suggest something other than competency.
Sometimes I glorify time in the kitchen and imagine myself as Julia Child with large copper pots hanging from the ceiling. Tonight, however, I just wanted to get a cake in the oven.
The recipe is famous among my family. Passed down from my grandmother, this is how I will always remember the cake:
I wouldn’t be surprised, though, if mine turns out looking more like this:
At least we can fall asleep tonight to the smell of chocolate.