I love to cook. Baking (and eating) a real cake – NOT one from a recipe that starts “to a box of Betty Crocker, add . . .” – is pure buttered and sugared joy. Out of (very little) respect for my and my husband’s waistlines, I try to restrict my cake baking to cake occasions; to bake one on a non-cake-occasion day would be a very wicked thing.
So, I am happy to report that tomorrow is my birthday.
In years past, I have made myself German chocolate cake, hummingbird cake, peanut butter chocolate cake, pineapple upside-down cake (my dad’s favorite), to name a few. This year, it’s time for a three-layered spectacle of vanilla cake, infused with coconut milk, filled with coconut sweetness that seeps into each layer, and topped with seven-minute frosting that’s been coconutted to the nth degree.
I know lots of folks are not fans of coconut, but it’s not their birthday! I’ll bake them something delicious from their flavor favorites when it’s their turn.
For tomorrow, though . . .
Happy Birthday to ME!