Jan. 19: Southern Devil's Food Cake

Okay, so this is really embarrassing. My cake is leaning. And it looks like it's going bald.

But all things considered, I think I prefer baking cakes over cookies. Don't get me wrong: I like to bake cookies. And other people like to eat cookies. And I like to please people. But there are some things about cakes that I find more appealing:

1. The ta-da! factor is greater. Cookies tend to disappear as soon as they come out of the oven, which leaves you with little visual return on your effort. Paradoxically, if they don't disappear, you have a jar full of cookies that no one will eat. Which is depressing. But a just-frosted cake is impressive to behold, no matter what it tastes like.

2. The accessories are more fun. Ever heard of a "cookie tester"? Or a "cookie decorating turntable"? I rest my case.

3. Cakes take less time. Okay, the overall time investment may be equal or greater, but you're not chained to the oven, watching the timer. And you pour the batter just once instead of 30 times.

4. Frosting a cake is suspenseful, kind of like an architectural project. "Will it stand without falling down?" Like legos with sugar and butter. It has its risks, but the rewards can be thrilling and surprising.

My first cake for this year was a Southern Devil's Food Cake (Fine Cooking, #103). My judges--Linda, Aubrey and Beth (aka, the Regence Web team)--gave it their thumbs up. I believe I even received an offer of marriage. Although Aubrey, my little vegetarian, gagged when I mentioned the 1/4 cup of mayonnaise. She kept saying to herself, "It's just eggs and oil, eggs and oil..."

The baking error I always make, though, is not reading the full recipe before starting a project. I usually end up with something like this revelation halfway through: "Let ganache frosting sit for 8 hours or overnight." WTF? I wanted it done TONIGHT!

That's how I ended up frosting this one at 7:30 this morning. Which may partially account for its rugged appearance. My goal this year: Get better at frosting.

But the part I'm most proud of? I'm blogging about it the same day!

It's 10 p.m., and the kids are in bed. James comes home Thursday, and I'm exhausted. My mind is full of questions and worries, as usual. But when I think about the things that occupy my mind these days, I'm embarrassed at--but grateful for--how mundane they are. How unimportant. Like worrying whether we can get all our vacant apartment rented. Or mulling over whether we should buy that Lexus or not (yes, yes, yes! no, no, no!). Or worrying about how badly my mother-in-law's new dog will trash the house in Palm Springs after James comes home.

Yes. She got a new dog. Stay tuned on that one.

There are much bigger worries in the world. I think about Haiti, and the Middle East, and people here in America who are jobless, homeless or carless. We have a place to live without fear of eviction. As a landlord, I've often wondered if we could donate one unit to a charity for a homeless family or battered mother with kids. Maybe someday. And if the new dog trashes the house, we'll have the carpets cleaned (but Wilma is paying for it). Finally, my car is perfectly fine (albeit high in miles, and those new RX 350s are awfully sweet).

Maybe the little worries are just distractions from the big ones. I'm really not as shallow as this blog may lead you to believe. It's art, people! Pixels, pastries and art!

And, honestly, I like picturing myself jetting around town in a black Lexus. Or the gold one. Or the blue one. Or the titanium silver one...

But I digress.

We were talking about worrying. Worrying is just a more anxious form of thinking. And my mind rarely rests. It's always gnawing on something, or planning something, or worrying, or considering, or imagining, or replaying or freaking out. Usually freaking out. And fantasizing. Can't forget about my rich fantasy life. I should write a book.

But again, I digress.

When the world is in chaos and little is settled or within your control, it's comforting to focus on one thing you can actually accomplish--even if that something's just a pretty cake that sits nicely on its specialty platter.

"Ta da! It's done! I hope you like it."

Even if it's not quite perfect.