Okay. So I've screwed up many different baking projects, since I started to develop my interest in baking. I've mixed things incorrectly, left out ingredients, and mistaken Bisquick for flour. That was terrible. But today I felt like this may have been the time that has crowned itself, the day that takes the cake (pun intended).
Over the last few weeks, I've been following an amazing bakery through their Instagram posts. Every picture could be straight out of a magazine. I'm pretty sure if National Geographic did a cake article, they'd be featured, or at least mentioned.
But what makes their cakes so beautiful, you ask?
Well, perhaps it is the amazing pastel colors they use. the way they get their ombre frosting technique to look like glass, the fact that they use Macarons and Meringues as their cake decor. Maybe it's that their cakes are probably baked with the essence of envy and lust. Okay, probably not but either way, they're magical and I want to make one.
So after staring at a few of their posts, I felt inspired. I'm going to make a luscious chocolate cake with buttercream frosting, Chocolate drizzling down the sides and so much beautiful color pop'n meringue, it would make a unicorn cry.
Step one: The Meringue Cookies.
First of all, I want to tell everyone that these are incredible hard to make (I'm lying) and second of all, They take forever and a day to bake for something so small (true story, at least that's the way it felt).
On my very first attempt, perfection. This was only after a few seconds of self-doubt and fantasizing about possible ways I might have messed them up. But in the end, they came out perfectly. I even went so far as to hand dip each one to create a water color effect. If I were Italian, I would have kissed my fingers and said "Magnifico!".
Step Two: The Cake or 2:00 AM, The Burning (both are accurate).
I would just like to say that the recipe I followed said it would be easy, so to not feel intimidated. Okay recipe, I wont. That was some time around 1:00 AM. That time of night when hopes are high and I wasn't yet running into the bedroom, to hastily call upon my husband to assist me in opening all of the windows, before the chance of setting off the fire alarm in our apartment complex could occur.
Oh no, that mad panic took place some time around 2:00 AM. The haunting hour. When cakes decide to erupt and go Pompeii all over your oven floor. Yes, there was smoke, burning, panic and a steady flow of chocolate cake cascading out of two perfectly centered cake pans.
I would like to say I didn't cry, but it was now 2:35 AM and I had had high hopes for those pans of what could have been, chocolate perfection. So after wiping my tears and the bottom of my oven, there I stood with my husband staring at the two ugliest pans of half baked chocolate cake.
My husband, who courageously tried to turn my grey skies back to blue, looked down at the cake and without lifting his head stated, "You can tell people you made lava cake." Ugh. At this point, I did the only thing any person grieving over their failed cake could do, I took out a fork.