My labour of love: a photo-journal
Let me show you how much I love my family. It’s Valentine’s Day. I want to make a fun, delicious, totally cheesy, ‘conversation heart’ cake as a surprise. Maybe something like this:
Or this (if I didn’t think my husband would be offended):
First, I should start by saying that my kitchen currently looks like this:
And my baking ingredients are currently stored (in the basement) like this:
But where there’s a will, there’s a way, right?! I forged ahead, because Spawn #1 was at daycare, Spawn #2 was sleeping and I really did not feel like folding the three loads of laundry that have been sitting in the basement for a week, nor did I fancy washing the laundry tub full of dirty dishes (Yes. Laundry tub. Refer to above kitchen photo for clarification.)
Trolling around Pinterest, I decided to use this adorable recipe because it calls for honey instead of white sugar (and I actually knew where the honey was…).
Everything was going as well as could be expected given my situation, when this happened:
Waste not, want not I always say, so I used that damn egg anyway. I got exactly two ingredients in the bowl when Spawn #2 woke up. I was pretty sure the raw eggs and sugar would be fine until afternoon naptime, so left it sitting and took a well-deserved break.
Three hours later I finally finished it using my old-timey processor (hand and fork) and, let me tell you, it looked gorgeous going in the pan! See?
Sigh. Now I understood why the recipe recommended putting a cookie sheet under the cake. Whatever. My laundry pile wasn’t getting any smaller, my dishes weren’t getting any cleaner and I don’t love my family THAT much.
Oh, of course I do, but my three year old isn’t going to care one iota about how the cake looks. He’s only going to care about how much I’m going to allow him to eat.
A thing of beauty, non?
Where’s the ‘conversation’ part of the conversation heart cake, you ask? When I started making the cake, I had every intention of icing it. Honest. However, as the day wore on and I was still in my pyjamas (don’t judge – my yoga pants were in that pile of yet-to-be-folded laundry, plus the pyjamas had hearts on them so I was technically just being festive, not lazy!) I decided to cop out and do the ol’ ‘dust some icing sugar on top’ trick. But I couldn’t find the icing sugar. Or the sifter… As I mentioned, my cup of love only runneth over so much…