I suck at cake - a tale of failure and ego (v. long, pointless)

I have mentioned in another thread that today, I am preparing a birthday feast for my nephew’s girlfriend. The poor dear shares her birthday with a much younger sibling and its proximity to Independence Day has meant a lifetime of patriotic cakes. Not that there’s a damn thing wrong with being patriotic, but Callista is more of a black fishnets and Doc Marten’s kinda gal and could definitely use a celebration more centered around herself. She’s a lot like I was at that age. Just the right blend of sweet and bitchy with a lot of black hair dye thrown in. Positively brilliant, with a penchant for tomfoolery and a predilection for Japanese cartoons.

I asked her what she wanted me to make for her birthday. “It doesn’t matter, everything you make is good!” Ah flattery. Deserved, too. It’s one of the few things I am completely immodest about. I’m so good at cooking, I actually have patronage: people will buy me groceries just so I will cook for them, which is nice since it frees up my student fundage for other stuff, like liquor. Oh yes – this tale will involve ethanol.

Where was I going with this? Oh right – the menu. I have skirt steak and chicken now marinating in chimichurri sauce. I will add shrimp when I get a little closer to grill time. Zucchini will be grilled alongside, and I will improvise a starch of some sort. The planned pièce de résistance was supposed to be the cake: I planned to make a Hello Kitty cake. I don’t make cake often – I think it’s on the lower order of dessert items, preferring pie, pots de crème, or freshly baked cookies, like a fine snickerdoodle prepared with leaf lard and excellent Ceylon cinnamon. But I wanted to make a Hello Kitty cake and was sure I could handle it. I mean, it’s just cake. How hard could it be?

I started cooking when I was really young. When I was 4 or 5, it was my job to mix the cornbread batter at my Grandma’s house. Pretty soon I was fixing my own eggs in my Grandma’s ancient cast iron skillet (with supervision). When I was 10 or so, I asked my Mom to teach me how to cook. I started out just helping – browning hamburger, or making the mashed potatoes. I apprenticed myself to my Mom basically. I learned and still do learn a lot by helping my Mom. I may rock at cooking, but she rocks more.

One day, my parents had gone out somewhere with my paternal grandparents, and I used the time alone (I was a very trustworthy child and was a latchkey kid for many years) to make a cake. I looked through a cook book until I found “Chocolate Cake” and went to town. Yep – 11 or 12 and I was baking a cake from scratch. Even then I was secure in my abilities to the point of cockiness…

The frosting, too looked easy enough. Sugar, Crisco and cocoa powder. “Confectioner’s sugar” said the recipe. Hmm. My young brain processed the phrase. Confection = dessert = sweet = sugar. It all seemed a little redundant to me so I shrugged as I grabbed some sugar from the canister on the counter. I put all the ingredients into a bowl and began mixing, but was a little worried about the texture. I guess I figured it would all come together, so I frosted the cake anyways with the grit suspended in fat. When everyone got home a while later it had still not “come together”. I was humiliated. Beaten by my own ego. My grandmother ate some of it anyways and declared it the best cake she had ever eaten. It was perhaps no coincidence however that for Christmas that year I got the best present she had ever given me: a cookbook for kids.

It’s been many years since I made that chocolate cake. Over these years I’ve made a lot of doozies in the kitchen, but I’ve developed a strong skill set in the process of learning. I learn a lot here, too – countless things. So I wasn’t too worried about the cake, which I was in fact not making from scratch. I figured I had enough work to do with butchering a few whole chickens (I’m out of stock so I need the backs and necks, plus I cook the innards as a special treat to the cats) and putting together the sauce. I waited until late last night to bake because I didn’t really want to turn the oven on when it’s been 110F+ every day and I don’t have central air. I thought I could handle a cake mix just dandy, what with my leet skillz and all that, so around 11PM I began consuming martinis. Between martini #1 and martini #2 I baked the cake. I was getting ready to make martini #3 when I turned the rested and mostly cool cake out onto a rack. Where it promptly broke in half.

No problem, said my inner chef through the drunken haze. We can just glue it together with frosting. I made martini #3 (polishing off the bottle of Sapphire that was supposed to last until August – my husband decided to do some gin experiments even though he claims to hate the stuff), took a shower, and slept the unconcerned and deathlike sleep of the dedicated lush.

Dawn broke but I didn’t notice, I was sleeping. I arose with my husband around 9. A hangover – not the headache kind, just a little queasy and unsteady. The remainders of my evening confronted me harshly in the kitchen: an empty bottle of gin, the cap still on the counter, the martini glass covered in grimy fingerprints and smudges of chocolate cake batter. A jar filled with brine but devoid of olives glinted in the morning light. It was already 100 degrees outside, and the temperature inside was rising as well.

Still feeling a little wobbly, I cut the cake out using the template. The edges came out a little jagged but I figured the frosting would fix that, just like the crack down the middle of the cake. I began frosting. Did I mention the weather and the state of my air conditioner? I’m sure I did, and I’m sure you, dear reader, can guess what the frosting was like. I smeared it on a little thickly since it was so runny, still feeling like I haven’t quite got my sealegs. I forgot to buy something to make the bow out of, so I grabbed the little hump of cake I sliced off the top. I made the center out of the Bombay cap, almost forgetting to rinse the remained of the gin off of it (that would have been horrifically nasty). The rest I did freehand, then placed it on top and frosted it into the cake. Or tried to, anyways. I’m not too great at frosting the sides of a cake, let alone a tiny sliver of cake on top of cake.

Oh crap. That was supposed to be pink. I grabbed my dye gel and made a batch of pink frosting to go over the white stuff. Then spent forever trying to make black frosting. Should I have bought pre-made black frosting? Yes I should have, but I was in a hurry at the grocery store and failed to plan ahead. After emptying a crapload of dye into the frosting, I gave up when it got to a dark gray. Her eyes are a little off. The nose – not so perfect. I wobbily scripted “Happy Bday Callista!” onto the foil-covered cutting board the cake was sitting on with the remained of the gray icing. Yeah, that’ll show up well, you moron, said my inner self.

The cake in fact looks like it was put together by a 12 year old, not a 26 year old with a supposed mastery of the culinary arts [photo evidence]. I was quite possibly channeling my 12 year old self, the one that made that horrible cake so long ago. Either that or I just haven’t progressed all that much since the chocolate cake with the gritty frosting. I am, once again, humbled. I give up on cake – all you cake decorating people, my hat’s off to you. From now on though, I’m sticking to pie.

That’s actually not as bad as you think it is.

From your description I was expecting some horribly mutilated mess.

That is identifiably a Hello Kitty cake, and one that was handmade with some serious love going in there. I’d be chuffed if it was my cake.

And I’m not just saying that either - I’m a top-notch cook, if I do say so myself, but sweets and especially cakes are my Waterloo. They defeat me every time (apart from my creamed rice. That’s AWESOME). And that cake looks pretty neat, and even edible. :smiley:

I can’t help but share this, but when I was around twelve I spent the weekend with my aunt and uncle and baked them a cake from scratch(including making the frosting) so when I read your OP it brought back to me exactly what that cake looked like. Although it wasn’t pretty, it was at least tasty so don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure your nephews girlfriend would be thrilled that someone thought enough of her to do something like that. And this is the bad part, If she doesn’t,maybe your nephew should keep shopping until he finds a real person to hang out with. Just my 2 cents.

Edit. I just looked at the photo and it was much prettier than imagined. Give yourself a break. For me? Please? I’ll stand outside for you in 126 degree heat for, O, 3 minutes? It’s worth it trust me. The humidity is 23 percent. So don’t go thinkin’ it’s a dry heat. :smiley:

Hell, I couldn’t do that. I like cooking and am not bad at it, but I generally suck at baking. Baking makes the most complex to set up and run chemical reactions seem easy. Though at least I don’t have to bake the cake under nitrogen.

True story: I decided to make cheesecake and start reading the recipe. “Pour the mixture in a springform pan.” My reaction: What the hell is a springform pan and how much is this little gadget gonna cost me? (And yes, I went to the store and bought a set of three.)

ears perk up Did you say pie?

Oh gosh me too. No wonder they separate pastries from the rest of the stuff at culinary school. It’s damn harder than it looks.

Well I’m hoping it’ll at least taste OK. I’m a little worried that the frosting may be overpowering, but I suppose plenty of strong coffee can overcome that. (Tell me about the creamed rice :D)

Oh she would never say anything, she’s an unfailingly polite girl. I’m still trying to figure out what she sees in the little butthead! (I’m kidding, hubbo’s nephew is a great kid, he just suffers from being 18 at times).

asterion: :smack: Cheesecake! I can make cheesecake! Why oh why didn’t I think to make a damn cheesecake!

LOUNE: if you ever visit the LA area, I will bake you a pecan pie you will not believe. Grandma’s recipe, best ever.

Aw! I don’t do pecan pie. Make it apple, cherry, or peach and I’ll slink along your calves like a cat as you walk.
Crap, I could go for some pie right now, too.

I’m still hammering out the kinks on my apple pie, but give me a few runs this fall and I’ll have it down. :slight_smile:

Gladly :smiley:

First of all I’ve gotta say, Nigella Lawson is my Goddess when it comes to easy recipes, and really tasty food. And in one of her books she’s got a recipe for stovetop creamed rice.

Essentially you’re making a sweet risotto, with arborio rice and hot milk. You melt down some butter and sugar in a pan so it sizzles, toss in a couple of handfuls of arborio rice and sizzle until coated in butter and translucent. Then you start adding hot milk a ladlefull at a time, like you would stock in risotto, and stir stir stir until it’s all absorbed. Repeat until the rice is cooked a little softer than al dente, then take off the heat and stir through some double cream.

It’s a thing of beauty and a joy to behold. I’ll dig out the actual recipe (with amounts and measures) and put it up in CS if anyone’s interested.

Sierra Indigo - I am so trying that soon! Thanks for that!

And an update: she actually cried when I showed her the cake. No word on whether it was because she was touched or that she thought it was horrible. It ate pretty good though. :smiley:

This feels almost obligatory:

It’s a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake!

I am late for the party, but just had to say you have a flair for the written word that must equal your cooking prowess.
And while that cake looked tasty, my first thought upon perusing your photo was:
“Dang, that Kitty had an accident and the vet put a Band-Aid on her ouchie.” :slight_smile:

One of the best secrets my grandmothers cook taught me is you cannever have enough sliced apples in your cake. Heap them to the sky because they ‘melt’ when they cook and collapse.

She also used to use sugar from the jar that had a cinnamon stick, a slab of leftover nutmeg and a vanilla bean buried in it, in addition to the usual spice suspects.

I love pecan pie, and I really don’t have a good recipe for it. Do you share yours? Will abject begging help?

You don’t suck at cake. I agree with those that say that it looked handmade–in a good way–and looked like Hello Kitty.

But, on the theory that misery loves company, let me tell you the story of dinner last weekend.

The Menu: Tomato Shortcake–a traditional summertime treat.

(Short version of recipe, Take biscuit, cut in half, place on plate. Place thick slice of fresh, locally grown tomato on each biscuit half. Take slice of crispy bacon, break in half, place on tomato. Pour generous amounts of cheese sauce over top. Enjoy. I eat this once or twice a summer, since it’s kind of high in salt and fat, but it tastes soooo good).

The Problem: I fixed the biscuits–from scratch, of course, and stuck them in the oven. Then I started frying bacon (cursing the lack of a microwave for the thousandth time since I moved into the apartment). And I started making the cheese sauce–by melting butter and stirring in flour. I had added the milk, and was pleased that my sauce seemed to be lump free–for a change–when disaster struck.

The bacon started burning, and my kitchen started filling up with smoke. So I retrived my bacon slices from the pan, turned off the burner that the bacon was on, shut off the annoying beeping noise (the oven timer), opened a window, fussed with my air conditioner (to increase air flow) and returned to the kitchen to find that my biscuits were becoming much too brown.

I then waited impatiently for my sauce to boil, added some cheese, and served myself dinner (no, no one else was eating with me.)

Dinner was sad. Not nearly as good as what I’d been anticipating. not worth the effort I’d exerted. The cheese sauce was weak and flavorless, the biscuits were slightly burnt, and the bacon definitely burnt.

The next day, I scraped the too dark part off a biscuit, added more cheese to my cheese sauce, and cooked some more bacon-- being careful not to overcook it-- and finally had the meal I’d been looking forward to.

Aww thanks Cabin_Fever. Now that I look at it again - that does look like a Band Aid!

Ah ha! I’ve been meaning to get together some vanilla sugar but kept putting it off - thanks, that will give me the impetus to get it going and give me an excuse to spend money at Penzey’s! (Husband: :dubious: Me: What? It’s for pie! You like pie don’t you? Only terrorists hate pie!)

Eureka: That looks damn good. I think I’ll grab a bunch of tomatoes next time I go down to the farmer’s market. I usually don’t have to have an excuse to spend money there! :wink: I’ve had that chain of events you describe many many times. Managing flow in the kitchen is a difficult skill and one that eludes me sometimes.

That’s another thing I’m no good at too - biscuits. My stepdad (Cheez_Whia’s husband) makes the best homemade biscuits I have ever had. Unbelievable stuff.

No need to beg.

Grandma’s special recipe – I figure she’d rather I share it than keep it to myself. :wink: It’s a little different since it uses dark corn syrup and brown sugar – the end result is a very dark, rich, and somewhat runny filling. It is not to everyone’s liking but I usually get a fine reception with it. You can also make little tarts with this filling, which are usually a little more chewy.

Pastry
3 eggs, beaten
1 c Karo corn syrup (blue label)
1/8 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
1 c brown sugar
2 tbsp. melted butter
1 c pecans

Roll pastry 1/8” thick and line 9 inch pie pan. Mix remaining together, adding pecans last. Pour into shell. Bake @ 400F for 40 minutes or until knife inserted into center comes out clean.

I use the flour paste method in Joy of Cooking (1972) for my pastry. Only I use lard for my shortening.

Must try to make pecan pie at some point.

Here’s time for happy - I made a lime cheesecake yesterday, and it turned out GORGEOUS. There’s just me and hubby, and three quarters of a cheesecake still in my fridge, and even though it’s only nine am I’m having a hard time stopping myself from diving face-first into the damned thing.

Well, I’m not going to lie to you; that isn’t a beautiful cake. It sounds like you got full marks for taste and effort, though, and that’s what really matters (after your bruised baking ego mends :smiley: ). I can normally turn out a decent cake (from a mix - why re-invent the wheel?), but I remember one memorable cake I made from scratch for my sister’s birthday - it actually made a clunking sound when it hit the plates. Ouch! As far as I know, I made it just like any other I’d made, and that day, the baking gods were not smiling (I’m sure I got something wrong, but I don’t know what).

My speciality is basic cookies - I start with a recipe, and freestyle from there. I have perfected the oatmeal chocolate chip walnut coconut bran cookie now (I figure we need fiber in our diets, so why not bran cookies?). I do a killer banana orange loaf, too.

I make a killer upside down pear-ginger-saffron cake. Literally, fights break out between people for the last piece. And, the best part is, no frosting to mess with. :slight_smile: