It is my wife’s birthday today and I thought I could impress her by baking a cake. The bake the cake part was fairly simple but now the frosting looks like hell. I build $7 million yachts and I can"t even frost a fucking cake! It looks like a five year old did it. I have to choose between throwing the thing away or having my wife laugh at me all night (next ten years more like it).
You might be able to salvage it (I’m also betting you didn’t let it cool.)
First, stop putzing with it. It won’t get better like that.
Second, put it in your freezer for 10 minutes or so. You don’t want to freeze it, but you do want to firm up the frosting a bit.
Next, smooth out the firmed frosting as best you can. Don’t worry about the little bits of cake. It’s too late to fix that.
Get some powdered sugar and put in in a sifter or wire mesh seive.
Tap the side of the seive or sift the powdered sugar over the cake.
If you’re lucky, and it’s not too far gone, the powdered sugar will help blur the edges of the monstrousity a bit. If it’s too far gone, at least it won’t look any worse!
Next time, remember, yes, they really *do * mean let it cool completely!
(P.S. If my husband baked me a cake and it looked like crap, I wouldn’t notice through the tears of joy. Ya got points already!)
I did let it cool down, but it was so uneven I had to cut the top off the lower layer and it seems to have disrupted the structural integrity of the cake.
WhyNot Thank you for the advice but she is here now and she has not seen it yet. I don’t think I can fix it while she is here.
re the structural integrity thing-- it helps to trim the humpy part off the top of each layer BEFORE you knock it out of the pan- that way the uncut, flatter side is up and it will take the frosting better- just saying, for next time (because of course there will be a next time, right?)
anyway, add my voice to the chorus of congratulations-- just doing it is such a nice thing that even if your wife laughs, it will be a charmed and thrilled laugh, not at derisive one. Also, it tastes the same no matter how fucked up it is!
Yeah, but there’s something to be said for visual aesthetics and their relationship to food. I cannot for the life of me make a good-looking omelette. It really pisses me off. It tastes fine; damn good, in fact, and if it looks a bit like I chewed it already, what’s the big deal, since it’s definitely going to look like that in a few minutes, right?
Well, it is a big deal, dammit. I once prepared breakfast for a few friends, and they looked at my omelettes like I’d tossed a steamer on each of their plates. They (the omelettes) were hideous. “It’s naht a tooomah,” I said, lamely, trying to compensate with humor for the lumpy masses of egg and cheese I’d given to my friends, ostensibly as a token of my esteem.
I’m a life scientist, doggone it. I cook up pretty-looking things for a living. Why can’t a make a goldang omelette properly? I feel zoo’s pain. It’s not the end of the world if we can’t cook something that looks edible, but it is a bit of an embarassment!
Elenia28, I don’t want to hear about your aesthetically pleasing omelets, thank you very much. As with Loopydude, mine taste wonderful and look like something the dog threw up behind the couch. I’ve been cooking the damn things for over 20 years, and I’d like to believe that NOBODY can cook an omelet that looks nice. So, hush.
This Year’s Model, you have trouble making omelettes that look good? But it’s so easy! You just … well, it’s easier to show than to describe. I use an oil spray on the pan (even though the pan is teflon) before starting. Beat the eggs in a bowl and maybe add a tiny amount of milk while the pan warms up. When the pan is warm enough that a drop of water kinda sizzles, pour in the eggs, put a top on the pan. Cook until it sets and easily slides around in the pan. Flip. Top with goodies, cook a little more, serve. Easy!
Oh, and zoo, so … you gonna tell us everything worked out OK, right?
Seriously, it’s probably because you flip it too soon the first time. Or, at least this is the problem I used to have.
A trick: If it really comes out looking like crap, put some cheese in it, fold it in half, put more cheese, fold it in half again, and slap it between two slices of bread. Condiment to your desire. Now you have an omelette sandwich.
My Papa taught me how to make omelettes a work of art. He used to make me one every Sunday, and me and Papa would just chill with our yummy omelettes while Mom ate her oat bran or whatever.
I’ve decided never to make an omlette again. Instead, I make “skillets” or “scrambles.” Really, people, 90% of good food is the marketing!
(I also hang picture frames at carefully crafted varying heights. If you can’t get it straight, but it crooked on purpose, and now it’s “art”!)