Cooking No. 4

According to the 17^th century German mathematician and astronomer Johannes Kepler, the universe was created on this day in the year 4977 B.C. However (and much more importantly), according to the Social Security Administration, my maternal universe was created on this day in the year 195X A.D. That’s right, folks. Today is Mama V.’s birthday.

Mama V., showing off her mad trophy wife skills. She is the best pie baker in the entire Northeast.

As the designated “domestic” daughter, I volunteered to make her a birthday cake this past weekend. Last year, I made her a not-so-great Bundt cake, whose myriad of issues I tried to cover up with an entire bag of M&Ms, so this year I decided to kick it up a notch. Oh yes. You are correct. I went Martha on her.

If Martha Stewart were married, she would be the ultimate trophy wife. (As she is not, I will retain my title.) She is from Connecticut, obsessed with her pets, AND owns every cooking accoutrement ever known to womankind. (On a related sad note, my pizza cutter broke last night. I think this is the Lord’s way of telling me pizza was not meant to be served multiple times a week. Thankfully, now that it is getting warmer, I can switch over to hot dogs.) I am kind of obsessed with the magazine Martha Stewart Living, so when I received the May issue and saw the Sugar-and-Spice layer cake on page 125, I instantly knew Mama V.’s birthday warranted nothing less.

I woke up bright and early Saturday morning and set to work. Thankfully, Mama V. was gracious enough to let me make her birthday cake in her own kitchen, which was an absolutely luxury. Not only does she have more than two feet of linear counter space, but she is also stocked with baking exotics such as cake flour and unsalted butter. I think she is making a run for my title. She even has a sifter!

Mama V. buys the fancy eggs from happy chickens. <3 However, my hand mixer is better than hers. This gives me a certain amount of smug joy.

The spice cake batter was delicious and baked well for the most part. The recipe said to coat the pans, line them with parchment paper (Wonder of wonders – also something Mama V. had!), and then coat the paper. While this redundancy helped the cakes pop right out, it also made the edges uneven, so in hindsight I think I should have just gone overboard on the Crisco and flour.

I tackled the frosting Sunday morning before church, which was really not a great idea. Attempting your first four-layer cake ever on the holiest day of the year does not lead to particularly holy thoughts. The frosting recipe calls for mascarpone cheese – something I had never heard of before that took me 20 minutes to track down in Price Chopper and then almost killed me with its exorbitant price tag – so I had to get a little creative with its poor man’s cousin: cream cheese. Would it taste okay? Would it stand up on its own? (Even after a bumpy ride down the Merritt?) There was only one-way to find out: I had to put it through the dessert gauntlet.

My family specializes in desserts. On some occasions, our desserts outnumber our side dishes two to one. One person may be designated to bring dessert, but everyone will find some way to make an extra batch of cookies, brownies, cupcakes – you get the picture. If my cake could stand out among the many (or failed to garner a peep from Uncle Karl), I would consider it a success. As someone who is still too low on the family totem pole to be asked to bring things – Sister V. made it up to appetizers not too long ago – it was a stressful moment. Would Martha/my cake baking inexperience let me down?

Mama V., wondering if the baking gene was successfully passed down to her younger daughter. (She is not, however, wondering why she has a duck noisemaker around her neck. That was for the rest of us to figure out.)

The verdict? The cake was light, the frosting was not too sweet, and the jam didn’t make anything soggy. A success! It turned out to be a beautiful cake for a beautiful mommy. I love you, Mom. Thanks for teaching me all the trophy wife skills I know. I hope you had a wonderful day!

A gratuitous, embarrassing sister shot. She has dubbed my scar "gangsta." Don't you know it. (My cousin, on the other hand, informed me that I look like I've been murdered. I <3 my family.)