Alright so you wouldn’t know it from this picture, but this cake was a real doucher, let me tell you. I had started the weekend with such ambition but by Sunday afternoon I found that I had accomplished very little. Sunday started like a lot of Sundays do, with a delicious brunch.
After asking the sweet, sweet lord to bless our waffles (my prayer came from an episode of Fresh Prince of Bel Air), we ate by candlelight until I noticed that it was like 3:30 and i had shit todo. Generally discouraged from that weekend’s lack of productivity despite my honest attempts at being productive, I started hacking away at the cake as if it had wronged me in some personal and irreparable way.
I think that Zach’s facial expression here pretty much sums up the general vibe in the room at this point. If that face could talk it would ask me if I was aware that cake, unlike hair, does not grow back after you trim it.
The result was this misshapen, hideous thing. That roundish blob is supposed to be a bowl. A spaghetti bowl. To be fair, I think that the unattractive shape had a lot to do with the cake itself. This week, I went all out and spent 89 cents on a box of store brand yellow cake. Needless to say, my laziness did not go unnoticed. Also, I didn’t work from a proper sketch as I said I would from now on. This is what I worked from.
I decided to stack munchkins in the “bowl” – otherwise I would have had three solid inches of frosting atop the cake. I don’t care who you are. That’s gross.
At this point I should have taken a break. I was so ENRAGED that my cake so far looked like a tumor. I really should have taken a step back to let my irrational anger dissipate. But I didn’t. I forged on. Then this hot-garbage situation showed up.
Donnelly cowered in the corner as I unleashed a stream of obscenities unto the frosting, as if it had planned this shit. In reality it was not the frosting’s fault. It was mine, for misplacing my regular piping bag and using a flimsy ziplock sandwich bag in its place. You can’t use a sandwich bag in this manner and not expect some sort of explosion.
Emotions were running high and I REALLY should have taken a break here. I didn’t.
Instead I took a serrated knife to the cake and, without any sort of deliberation or strategy, cut the thing in half. Radially. That was the end of the bowl.
Resigned to the fact that my cake would now be a pile of spaghetti rather than a bowl of spaghetti, I considered the chocolate munchkin.
Did it really look like a meatball? We decided yes – partially because I was in no mood to find an alternative, and also it did actually play the role of meatball pretty well.
So I framed the cake in meatballs, summoned all the frosting in my house, got into the power stance and covered everything. Then I go to use the saran wrap for whatever reason and find the sliding blade to be missing. Again at this point I will admit that I should have stepped back and calmed down. But I didn’t! I did what seemed most rational at the time, which was to grab the largest knife in the drawer to attack saran wrap, which we all know is one of the most stubborn and immovable of substances.
After covering the cake with spaghetti to the best of my ability, I rolled out some leftover red fondant from the China cake and cut out a shape that I thought best represented pasta sauce. I then attached the meatballs on top with skewers.
Cut to almost a week later, when we finally get around to eating the cake. All in all it was barely a cake. I think this is best demonstrated through a pie chart.
As you can see, this cake is mostly munchkin, and in case you didn’t know, those things don’t keep well. They were sort of stale and crumbly, but everyone was very nice about it and even made “mmmm” noises. Also, Katie refused to not be blurry in photos.
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