Week Ten: A Cake to Close the Year

If you've followed along for a few weeks or from the beginning (God bless you), you've watched me burn out on baking (pun intended). I've gone from giddy excitement to busy curiosity to near dread for baking, eating and writing about cake.

J asked me earlier this week "So, what will your last cake be?" I actually flung my head back and groaned out loud, not unlike our 18 month-old. And I had no answer. I'd done no pre-planning and no Pinterest research, much less cracking an actual cookbook.

However, January's Our State magazine (a wonderful periodical about all things North Carolina) included a peanut butter cake recipe. I haven't made a peanut butter cake yet, I had almost all the ingredients already, it required no fancy equipment or talents, and it could be made in a casserole dish without decoration. Sold.

But reading the recipe caption really sealed my choice and is what makes it the perfect way to end both this challenge and the year.

Photo courtesy of Our State magazine

Their beautiful photo is captioned "In grade school, recipe writer developer Lynn Wells always looked forward to peanut butter cake day in the cafeteria. Now, she shares her recipe (for School Days Peanut Butter Cake)." 

I had to do some research. I asked my parents if they remembered eating peanut butter cake at school. My mom was wide-eyed and excited, gushing over her school cakes; then crushed that I hadn't brought her a slice. I also remember hearing both of them talk about amazing cafeteria brownies. Then, because the universe's timing is hilarious, my friends' mother shared a similar recipe ("Lunch Lady Cookie Bars") on facebook and mentioned how much she loved eating this at school as a little girl.

This baffles me. I can't recall anything resembling dessert being served at school (beyond fruit cocktail or the "good" snacks which cost extra) and I was in school pre-Obama lunch rules (seriously, thanks Michelle Obama. I love you.). And I don't remember a single thing that stood out to me as homemade; it all seemed so processed and pre-packaged. 

The majority of my cafeteria memories from elementary school revolved around the tyrannical cafeteria manager, Mrs. Burns. 

Unfortunately, I never encountered her much again after 8th grade and don't know anything about her personal life. But as a kid, she was terrifying. The seemingly ancient lady frequently yelled at us waving a menacing wooden spoon, and gave every appearance of hating her job, and probably us, too.

She was always dressed professionally in crisp white scrubs, there were never major snafus in the lunch line, everyone had enough to eat, and her staff were excellent (good cop/bad cop?). Yet, she was a nightmare.

However, now I'm an adult and a mom and I kinda get it. In hindsight, she was probably approaching retirement age. Mrs. Burns' cafeteria ran like a well-oiled machine because she'd had a lot of practice. She knew what worked and what didn't. But she was probably OVER.IT.

I only have one child and even microwaving a crappy meal usually ends in yelling and/or tears from at least one person. I can't imagine spending a day catering to hundreds of loud, messy, and generally awful picky eaters.

And given what I know now about professional life, being a lunch lady probably provided her little perks. Like being a janitor or secretary, food service can be a really thankless career - especially when you're feeding seemingly ungrateful kids. Despite being one of the most regulated positions in a school, there is little respect from coworkers, the Board of Ed, or State Office of Human Resources (read: K-12 teachers are gods compared to other state employees).

She might have started her career happy, excited to see sweet babies grow up under her care. But by 1993, Mrs. Burns was probably tired, overworked, underpaid, and suffering from a non-stop tension headache following years of lunchroom chatter.

And we've all been there - in our jobs, our relationships, our parenting, or even in our hobbies. The things we loved, that we actually wanted to spend time doing, which we're good at, become burdensome, boring or exhausting. We end up spending more time dreading going to work or yelling at our kids than we do celebrating our accomplishments or making good memories. 

But here we are, approaching a new year where we can re-prioritize our life!

This challenge - to bake a cake every week for ten weeks - has allowed me to see how I need to better manage my time to improve my life. I'm the worst to take on too much and stress. I think I'm so busy, that I never have any time. And sometimes, it's tight. We go and go on the weekends, trying to cram as many chores, trips, and family activities into 2.5 days. Sometimes I push too hard and turn fun into obligation ("WE WILL DO XYZ. IT WILL BE MAGICAL AND WE WILL LOVE IT, DAMNIT.") 

Using Goodreads.com's annual Reading Challenge widget

But then I look back at this year. I've struggled a lot as a new mom to find my groove between getting things done and enjoying myself. But then I see that I did find the time for things that really mattered or made me the happiest. 

Somehow, I managed to bake 10 cakes during the busiest time of year and I wrote about each cake, too! Magically, I was able to read 25 books this year (my long-shot goal was to read 15)! We went to DC for a few days; we took two weeks of  Baby Swim Class; I threw J a great 30th birthday party, the list goes on and on. Because we made time for it; even when it wasn't easy to do so. 

So I encourage you, to take some time to reconnect with the sweetness of life - your kids, your interests, delicious homemade recipes - and savor it. 2018 is sure to have its hardships - every year does - but don't allow yourself to be bogged down in the mire. Seek the passion you had early in your career or marriage, remind yourself of your talents, and make your joy a priority. 

Hopefully, Mrs. Burns was able to find peace and relaxation after my tenure in K-8; but I beg you to not wait that long. 

P.S. Don't take this to mean I'll keep baking a cake every week. Screw that. We are officially out of butter and I quit. 

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I'M FINISHED! Hallelujah! I did it. 

To recap: 

Week 1: Coconut Cream Poke Cake 

Week 2: Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting 

Week 3: Orange Chiffon Cake with Candied Zest 

Week 4: Upside Down Banana Toffee Cake 

Week 5: Maple Bundt Cake 

Week 6: Little French Fudge Cakes 

Week 7: Tomato Soup Cake 

Week 8: Sufganiyot 

Week 9: Chocolate Yule Log 

Week 10: School Days Peanut Butter Cake from Our State 

I chose this week's recipe on a whim and praise the Lord it turned out to be incredibly easy and wonderfully delicious! I would highly recommend this recipe for any get together and especially for events where you're in a pinch for time and/or money, but need to feed a crowd quickly. This might become my go-to potluck/Church dinner cake. 

The technique is certainly easy and fast, but it is a bit bizarre. For the cake, you melt butter into a saucepan of water and boil. Then you add peanut butter, oil, buttermilk, eggs and vanilla. I'm familiar with the wet into dry ingredient method, but I don't exactly understand the science of the boiling... but whatever, it's pure wizardry. It makes for a very wet, loose batter, but it cooks into a perfect, airy spongey cake. 

Only a few things are worth waking up early:
Cake and WNC sunrises top the list

In my very limited research (ahem just comparing this recipe to the similar 12 Recipes version), I've found a difference in including crunchy peanut butter or sticking only to creamy. I haven't tried creamy-only, but I LOVE the texture the few small peanut bits adds to the cake. I'd expected the crunchy to be used in the frosting, but it's great in the cake itself. 

The frosting also involves a bit of boiling, but it's a breeze to make. Pouring the hot frosting onto the warm cake allows a bit to seep in deeper into the sponge. But as it cools it hardens only a bit - not quite like those amazing fudge icings Southern grandmas can make in their sleep. It's silky and sweet (you could probably cut back on the powdered sugar by 1/2 - 1 c, actually) and is just the right thickness across the cake. 

And I love to be the bearer of wonderful news: this cake is even better the next day. We put ours in the fridge - again, more food science I don't understand: what desserts should/shouldn't go back in the ice box? - and it was terrific the next morning. The frosting got a little crispier and I swear the flavors deepened overnight. 

#NoFilter #Flawless #Awkward

Allegedly this makes 24 pieces of cake; they had to make it go far in a cafeteria (and not pump all the kiddos with sugar and butter midday). But you absolutely have my permission to cut it into 12 pieces...or 6... or sit down with the dish on your lap and a binge-worthy show (oh, these accidental puns). 

Seriously, file this one away, y'all. I think it's in my top three for this challenge. 

Here we are. At the end. My butter, sugar and AP flour stockpiles have been depleted and my energy is spent. I'm relieved and ready to relax for awhile. As this cake cooled, I put on my fleece onesie (stretchy clothes are a must for now), slippers and a carbonated clay face mask (copious amounts of butter = a desperate pore situation) to fully come off of my baking high. 

Thanks for sticking with me for the last ten weeks. I'm proud I got through it and glad you joined me. More to come in 2018! But not cake...or not much. 

Week Nine: The Showstopping Yule Log

Do you watch The Great British Baking Show? I certainly hope so. If you don't, you ought to. It's on PBS (in America) and there are currently four seasons streaming on Netflix. 

British TV, in general, is a delight; from Monty Python to Fawlty Towers to Coupled to a zillion reincarnations of Doctor Who to Sherlock to Downton Abbey (my Winter Break binge) to Call the Midwife, it's all gold! But this show is particularly wonderful and a really under-appreciated TV food market: nice people making nice things. 

The premise is home bakers compete to win title of Best British Baker, not for a bazillion dollars or crazy fame, but an etched cake stand. The challenges are daunting and difficult but the people are so freaking nice. No one is sabotaging; they waste no time with alliances, mudslinging or the other dramatic bullshit we see on 99% of competition shows (I'm looking at you, Cutthroat Kitchen...which I also enjoy); it's all about hard work and supporting each other. 

Each episode includes three challenges: 

1. A signature bake where they have to meet x criteria (like make 48 identical biscuits aka cookies) but they can choose flavors etc.
2. A technical challenge where the splendid judges/British baking heroes, Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood, provide incredibly vague instructions for the bakers to replicate classic dishes (make a jam, make a batter, bake...= jaffa cake)
3. The showstopper, again with x criteria (a gingerbread centerpiece that is at least a foot tall with four separate pieces) where they are expected to go above and beyond any level of sane baking

These challenges never cease to amaze me - beyond that British baking is steeped in so much (delicious) history - but also because of the wide range of skills needed to produce these beautiful, flavorful dishes. And this week, we made our own showstopper. 

It's something I've only really seen in the past few years, and have only tried twice - with a clearanced Walmart version last year and an annual tradition at The Hop Ice Cream Cafe - but have been too terrified to try to make: bouche noel aka yule log, or according to Great British, a roulade.

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It's Week Nine and I am legit over this. So over it, in fact, I enlisted a guest baker this week - the Hubs. I never thought I'd get sick of cake, but...here we are. 

Looking at the calendar, it
looks like we missed a week,
 but eff it. I've made and eaten
 nine stupid cakes.

To recap the last two months' cakes: 

Week 1: Coconut Cream Poke Cake 

Week 2: Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting 

Week 3: Orange Chiffon Cake with Candied Zest 

Week 4: Upside Down Banana Toffee Cake 

Week 5: Maple Bundt Cake 

Week 6: Little French Fudge Cakes

Week 7: Tomato Soup Cake 

Week 8: Sufganiyot 

Week 9: Chocolate Yule Log  as found in Kraft's Food & Family

A yule log is basically a Little Debbie Swiss Roll disguised as a log. Sounds delish, right? Ok, maybe not, but they're so stinkin' cute! I've seen them covered in ganache with wood grain "carved" in, or white icing + cocoa powder and stencils to make birch trees, or detailed piping. The log-o-flauge can be quite time consuming, but that is second only to the tedious nature of the cake itself. 

I remember making a jelly roll cake once as kid, I was maybe 13. It stuck to the towel, cracked and was overbaked, total disaster; and I haven't made once since....speaking of which, does it really count that I've made another, since I had J do it? Dang. 

But this recipe isn't as daunting as I'd feared. The cake was a fairly standard sponge recipe, and it cooked for less than 10 minutes. The rolling was a bit nerve-wracking, but since it was iced and covered in chocolate "bark," cracking could be easily forgiven, if not just hidden. 

It looked AMAZING on our table. It was very realistic (for a cake masquerading as a log), and despite my perfectionist, artist husband's comments about how he'd done his grain incorrectly, I thought it was perfect! 

The recipe even included instructions for a yule log's perfect companion - mushrooms! They are mushrooms made from jumbo marshmallows. Fair warning, however: you will be so tongue tied you'll call both marshmallows and mushrooms the wrong thing for days (I've had to retype the last two sentences several times already). 

Another tip, enjoy the cute rolled up precious log while you can. Because you have to hack the hell out of it to cut a slice. Just like Paul Hollywood butchers the edible art on Baking Show, you'll need to be ruthless and just murder your beautiful log. But it's so tasty, from the soft cake to the sweet filling to the delicious bark, you'll have little time for regrets about knife skills. 

After last week's disastrous attempt to make something from an unfamiliar, daunting ingredient/process (dry active yeast) which yielded an absolute failure, it was wonderful to see another equally scary recipe turn out so beautifully. Perhaps it had something to do with my exceptional guest baker? 

I wouldn't kick him (the tall one) out of the kitchen...
I frequently kick the little one out, however.

One week left to go in the ten weeks of cake, dear readers. And as happy as I'll be to say goodbye to the bizarre year that was 2017, I'll be equally happy to stop baking, researching, writing about and eating cake...for awhile. 

Week Eight: A Cake for Eight Nights (All the Cusswords x 2)

FYI - I started writing this really sweet, emotional post Friday night, during Part One of the cake preparation ... before it fell all to hell, resulting in an over-the-top display of emotion, screaming, all the cusswords x 2 and not allowing the cake out of the house. Bear with me on this. 

Happy Hannukah! It's day five of the Festival of Lights and I'm 18 hours into my most challenging cake to date. It's a riff on the traditional Hannukah dish, sufganiyot or jelly-filled donuts.

Foreshadowing via Facebook. Follow us on FB at Endlessley Delicious Blog

Obviously raising a little donut lover -- at Duck Donuts

I found this recipe in the same "15 Unusual Cakes You Should Make Right Now" listicle from Buzzfeed (this weird post brought us last week's Tomato Soup Cake, too) when I started considering this ten-week adventure. It appealed to me right away, because I'm always looking to expand my cultural and culinary horizons; I've been making my previous boss, a Brooklyn Jew with the world's largest sweet tooth, traditional NY/Jewish/holiday treats for years; and because donuts.

These fairly shallow reasons were enough to convince me to bake this overgrown donut cake; this was actually the first cake I knew I would include in my ten week challenge. This week I really got to thinking about the purpose of this challenge and what it's meant to me so far. I was thinking about the meaning of Hannukah and realized this cake, and how I intend to share it, was really important and true to the Jewish tradition.

In 168 B.C.E. the Syrian-Greek soldiers overtook the Jewish Temple. The following year, they prohibited the practice of Judaism, began executing resisters, and stealing traditional homeland. The resistance continued to grow, becoming a group called the Maccabees. They successfully reclaimed their homeland and eventually the Temple. Greek occupiers defiled the Temple, by practicing religious acts to their foreign gods and sacrificing swine on sacred ground. The Maccabees were determined to purify their sanctuary and intended to burn ritual oil in the Temple's menorah for eight solid days. However, they only had enough oil to last a single night. But by a miracle of God, the oil lasted night after night after night until the eight nights of purification were completed. Each year, Jews across the world celebrate the miracle of God's protection, generosity, and power, by lighting menorah candles for eight nights.

Eating fried food is an almost universal tradition during Hannukah. The foods, fried in oil, are a delicious symbol of the lasting menorah oil. The global relationship of food and faith is beautiful and especially tasty.

I decided almost 2 months ago that I wanted to make this cake, and here we are at Hannukah and the perfect occasion arose. We belong to an adorable, wonderful and totally unique church in our hometown. It's a non-denominational, contemporary church that started in 2005. The Summit was the first church of its kind in a heavily traditional, rural part of the Bible Belt, which did not go unnoticed. 

We wear jeans to worship; we are music-heavy with loud, contemporary songs played by (STELLAR) musicians whose secular band has frequent gigs at bars, clubs and casinos; children dance in the aisles; and until recently, a largely un-churched congregation.

 

HIT PLAY! #SoundOn Who wouldn't love a church

 with tiny costumed conductors? 

For over a decade we've met on Sundays at an area school gym, which means every Sunday morning we roll out floor mats, set up 100+ chairs, sit in them for an hour then pick them back up and re-roll the mats. All of our equipment, supplies, and tools are unpacked then repacked every single Sunday. We do own property, and this summer completed the work for a picnic shelter with bathrooms. But we refuse to take on great debt for a building; our church isn't four walls and a cross on the roof, we are the people in the seats, any seats. It's empowering to know we're not a church driven to pass the plate to pay a mortgage; but set up and break down is exhausting and we long to be able to expand our programming beyond Sunday mornings.

Twelve years ago, no one outside of our core church family thought we had enough "oil" to last one year.

Our great music (seriously, y'all, the best), casual atmosphere, and openness (to visitors, to the unsaved, to doubt) could explain one year of success; but no way we could keep the candles burning for five years.

The creative worship - like a series (complete with costumes) about faith through the decades, and lasting service to the community - like our bus parked at a college bar on Thirsty Thursday taking kids home safely,  could sustain us for five years, but without a building of our own, we certainly weren't going to last ten years. There just can't be that much oil. 

But here we are. Twelve years old. With a core of people who've been there from the beginning, families who have grown with us, and others who visited by chance and fell in love, we've lasted. The Summit isn't the suck-your-teeth, flash-in-the-pan church anymore; we're a part of the community and we're on the cusp of another great change.

This fall we called a new pastor to lead us and within the last month we signed a lease at a location where we'll have a permanent set up, our kiddos will have dedicated space to cry and play and learn about God, our Pastor and Minister of Worship will have an office instead of squatting at a local coffee shop, and we can meet any evening or time on the weekend. Praise sweet baby Jesus.

This weekend crews came together for #DemoDay and a painting party to prepare our new space for a January move. The candles were burning (maybe at both ends?) with a surplus of oil. It's really happening for us. And like the Maccabees, we don't know where we're going or how this will turn out, but it's God and the gifted oil of time, talents and love of church family members that sustains us.

For more Summit shenanigans, follow us on Facebook 

This was the time to bring a symbolic dessert to the folks working through their weekend to knock down, then rebuild and paint walls.

But I told God my plan, and y'all know how that usually turns out. It had been put on my heart to feed my friends in this beautiful way, and then life got in the way, effed it up and I said screamed a lot of unbecoming words. Jesus, fix it.

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Sigh, here we are at Week Eight. For the first time in this challenge, I'm actually counting down "WHEN WILL THIS BE OVER?!?!" instead of "ooh, what will I make next week?" 

To recap:

Week 1: Coconut Cream Poke Cake 

Week 2: Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting 

Week 3: Orange Chiffon Cake with Candied Zest 

Week 4: Upside Down Banana Toffee Cake 

Week 5: Maple Bundt Cake 

Week 6: Little French Fudge Cakes 

Week 7: Tomato Soup Cake  

Week 8: Sufganiyot (Jelly Donut) Cake from Food52

I'm terrified of dry active yeast. I've always heard you need warm liquid to "wake up" your yeast - not too cold or it'll die, not too warm or it'll die. No pressure. Strike 1 for this recipe. 

Plus it needs to rise for three+ hours before chilling overnight and I couldn't start it until after Baby went to bed, therefore it was a long night of deflating bread. Strike 2 for this recipe. 

But it looked so pretty in the morning light and after it's final rising. 

And then it died a horrible death. Strike 3, 4, 5. 

Spoiler alert: my oven needs recalibrated. You're supposed to cook the two dough balls, which will become two loaves of brioche aka giant donuts, for 25-35 minutes at 400. I know my oven runs a little hot, so I try to check in early on most things I bake. 

At 13 minutes, the loaves were dark brown around the sides and bottom, but I could see raw dough at the crack on top. I couldn't stand it at 15 minutes and took them out. They were cooked, not as nicely as I'd have liked, and burnt...big time.

Commence screaming, crying, screaming, dramatic texting. Repeat for ... awhile. 

I refused to take this to share with my "Maccabees." Flat out refused. Symbolism and community and fellowship be damned. 

But J convinced me to at least make half of the filling, prepare one "donut" and force it upon him and my parents. I grumbled through the whole thing "Oh, don't eat that bite, it's too burnt" and "No, no, you don't have to finish it." 

I'm still bitter about this one (probably from that carbon taste lingering on my tongue), so I'll give you a very short-run down on the recipe (which I refuse to type out for you):

1.  It's a recipe of good intentions, but even it it worked out, it's incredibly time consuming. Unless it was a 10/10, I'd probably never make it again. 
2. The brioche (between the burnt parts) was lovely - a little sweet but so buttery and smooth. However, Aldi US has a delicious line of flavored brioche products. Buy those. F this. 
3. I've never had a jelly AND cream filled donut. Novel idea, very yummy! 
4. The butter/sugar coating on top was genius, very true to a real jelly donut and added some much needed bold sweetness. 

I still feel the same hope and mushiness for our church, but as far as this challenge is concerned: What's the Hannukah equivalent of "bah humbug?" 

Week Seven: "What on Earth Would Possess You to Make a Tomato Soup Cake?"

You poor readers are constantly hearing how strapped I am - for time, for cash, for motivation - and this week's cake is a wonderful reflection of (and solution to) that. 

Some of my favorite recipes were designed with such shortcomings in mind. There's a whole world of "substitution"cooking that helped families get through tough times, like war-rationing, without losing delicious food. 

For example: mock apple pie is quite possibly the best apple pie you'll ever eat. But it doesn't include a single apple, it's made of Ritz crackers. 

A few years ago, we found a handwritten recipe inside of an old church cookbook (the sacred tomes of all cookbook-dom) for "imitation pecan pie." And girls, I get it, pecans are EXPENSIVE. They're also my favorite nut to mindlessly eat from the freezer (or dig out of cans of mixed nuts before anyone can catch me); so any way to save money or pecans, is a win. This pie is actually made with pinto beans and corn syrup, but nary a nut. It was good, but probably better when you don't know you're eating bean pie. 

Women, we are so resourceful and determined to serve our families in a meaningful way. Yeah, we might have to make meatless sausages (like Welsh Glamorgan sausages, popularized in WWII), vinegar pies, or repeatedly thinned out stew; but we try so hard to make sure our families are fed something tasty. 

And sometimes, maybe most of the time, you aren't strapped for ingredients, but you're short on time and won't have the chance to develop deep flavors. Thank you, God, for things like bouillon cubes. This week recipe is from the 50's, when mothers' time became even more precious and the scientific future was becoming a reality. Post-war, U.S. life was largely improving, women had more options outside of the house, and tools of convenience - from shiny appliances to instant Jell-o pudding - were everywhere. Instead of laboring over the stove to create home cooked meals, you could open a box or a can or even throw a TV dinner in the oven. 

Which brings us to a recipe that would make both Andy Warhol and Betty Draper proud. 

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We're seven weeks in and drifting into the "unusual" recipe pile. Ages ago, I saved a Buzzfeed listicle of "15 Unusual Cakes You Need To Make Right Now" and this week's 
recipe (and next's) came from it. 


To recap:

Week 1: Coconut Cream Poke Cake 

Week 2: Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting 

Week 3: Orange Chiffon Cake with Candied Zest 

Week 4: Upside Down Banana Toffee Cake 

Week 5: Maple Bundt Cake 

Week 6: Little French Fudge Cakes 

Week 7: Tomato Soup Cake from Food52

Some 1950s/60s meals of convenience were downright TERRIFYING. Recipes leaned too heavily on mayonnaise and Jell-o (even together!) and provided us some of the scariest recipe cards I've ever seen. But I promise you, this use of a totally random, processed food is brilliant and delicious, and makes for quick prep. 


First things first: no, you can't taste the tomato. No, the cake isn't bright red. No, it doesn't smell like condensed soup. 

I performed an experiment to make sure the cake was 1. delicious and 2. not a tomato-y disaster. I made the cake alone in the kitchen and served it to my husband and parents, asking only if they could find my secret ingredient. They all picked up on the strong spices and could point out the cinnamon and nutmeg (I was out of cloves). 

When I told them it was made with tomato soup concentrate, they were all flabbergasted. J actually made me dig the can out of the recycling bin and then ate three pieces "just to be sure he didn't taste tomato." 

Honestly, I have NO idea why this recipe exists or what ingredients/preparation you might need to create a similar flavor and depth sans soup. But, since it was originally on a Campbell's label, I imagine it came from their burgeoning research and development department. And, it was so successful, unlike this "tuna 'n waffles" gem, it was allegedly included in the first edition of "The Joy of Cooking." 

This isn't a vegetable pun, but if you enjoy carrot cake, I think you'll really enjoy this cake. It's rich and spicy; those flavors that are so comforting and warm. Usually you add one of the major "mulling spices" - cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, allspice - but this recipe uses three. And the raisins add a bright burst of sweetness and juicy texture to an already soft, moist cake. 

And that sweet, thick cream cheese frosting. I'll be honest here, since the target audience of the original recipe was housewives who didn't have time to mess around, I totally used canned frosting. And no, I didn't do a crumb coating and piped rosettes; I followed the instructions of the author's mother and spread frosting between the layers and on top, nothing on the sides. Brilliant time savers, these ladies really had the right idea! 

This was a perfect cake for our surprise snow day Friday. We were unprepared with supplies and hankering for something comforting and sweet. Snow days are notoriously my best cooking (and eating) days, but we were hopelessly short on junk food staples. The snow kept piling up (9+ inches!), but a little digging in the pantry made for a delicious 3.5" of cake! 

If you're looking for a walk on the wild side, something out-of-the-ordinary, or a retro centerpiece, this is the recipe for you. It sounds outlandish, garish, and totally unnecessary, but it truly is a tasty, moist, and beautiful cake. 

Week Six: Little Cakes are Still Cakes

Eureka! By George, I've found it! Huzzah!

What, you might ask, have I found? Why, nothing other than the core of this challenge! The recipe for a PERFECT cake!

When I started this adventure to make a cake per week until the New Year, I was hoping to pare down my ragged pile of recipes torn from magazines and my out-of-control "Recipes: To Try" Pinterest board. I wanted to find delicious recipes that aren't just good for that one time your wife wants a cake shaped like a cat on a surfboard (ask my husband) or for an unexpected Russian/Olympics themed dinner party. I wanted to find a cake so good, so delicious, and so reasonable (in price and time) that you could - and would - make it over and over again. 

So let me start over...

EURKEA! BY GEORGE, I'VE FOUND IT! HUZZAH!

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I've officially finished the majority of this end-of-year baking! I've completed sixty percent of my challenge - welcome to Week 6! 

To recap:

Week 1: Coconut Cream Poke Cake
Week 2: Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting
Week 3: Orange Chiffon Cake with Candied Zest
Week 4: Upside Down Banana Toffee Cake
Week 5: Maple Bundt Cake
Week 6: Little French Fudge Cakes from The Splendid Table*

First of all, if you aren't listening to, subscribing by email, or otherwise digesting content from The Splendid Table  you are officially missing out. TST is dedicated to "life's appetites" and their weekly show (check your area NPR station or listen online) includes famous chefs and restaurateurs and a variety of other foodies who discuss trends, techniques, recipes, cookbooks, science, and more! The diversity of topics and recipes is astounding. Looking through their recipe collection (you can sign up for weekly recipe emails, too. YES, PLEASE!), you'll find so many things you've never tried (to cook or eat) or even heard of. Sometimes the ingredients are weird, hard-to-find, or expensive; but in my experience, they recipes are always good. So when comparing this to their other great recipes, would it be in poor taste ( bad pun #1) to say that this recipe takes the cake (bad pun #2)? Because it does. 

Zoom in to see all that glorious gooey chocolateness! 

If you like lava cakes or brownies, you'll love this. It's both gooey and cakey. 

Made in cupcake tins, the batter cooks quickly to get a nice fluffy breading on the outside and top. But with the extra bite-sized pieces of chocolate and short baking time, the center is still soft. It doesn't flow like molten chocolate sauce, but it's still creamy and soft (especially if you eat it warm, and let's be real here...warm chocolate cake!). 

If you like chocolate, you'll love this. It's FULL of dark chocolate, and a surprise. 

Boasting over six ounces of dark and unsweetened chocolate (that's an ounce/cake!), these little cakes pack a chocolatey punch! It's a rich and deep flavor for a dessert meant to be savored. But you also add ground cinnamon and the way it blooms to come through the chocolate is such a surprising and delicious accompaniment. 

If you like short recipes and only two dirty bowls, you'll love this. It's beyond simple. 

I'll happily re-type this recipe because it's basically three steps: melt some chocolate, stir into other ingredients, bake. And it's all done by hand without even dirtying a mixer! 

And that's not all, here are some other reasons you're sure to love this recipe:

Gooey cake + ice cream/whipped cream = a dream 

You have your own individual dessert, sharing is optional. 

It's easily doubled with no extra trouble, which makes it great for date night or a dinner party crowd.  

You can add a bit of sugar to make it more kid-friendly.  

Allegedly, they're good cold and will keep in the fridge for up to 5 days (who are these monsters?) 

Long story short, this is THE RECIPE. Six weeks in and I've peaked. 

The Hubs would happily settle for four more weeks of Little French Fudge Cakes, but we press on! 

*As a fair disclosure, I have won a sweepstakes from TST (5 lb block of grana padana cheese, cheese knife, planner and cookbook!), but this is not a paid ad or sponsored blog; they just rock!