I have only made cake a grand total of 3 times in my entire life.
First was in high school when two of us tried to bake a cake for a friend’s birthday. We took it out of the oven brown and hard and decided it was inedible. So we brought it out to the birthday girl, everyone sang her the obligatory song and then we just pressed it flat into her face. Cake fight ensued.
The second time was about a year or two ago, when I decided to make blueberry cheesecake as a birthday present to my mom. It didn’t involve any baking, but a whole darn lot of mixing, melting, and frothing. I created such a racket in the kitchen and I was so exasperated that mom came in to help me make her own present. We stuck it in the fridge and when it came out after the designated amount of time, instead of staying cake-shaped, it fell apart into some form of mushy goo. My dad and brother took a few bites each and offered wry smiles and polite remarks while mom, bless her, had a few scoops and declared it was “just like blueberry cheese ice-cream“!
The third time, on Wednesday night, I decided to bake a chocolate cake for Nasty’s birthday. I spent a whole evening egg-cracking and putting in double the necessary amount of sugar because the kitchen scales went bonkers and I ended up frantically scooping sugar out of the mixture and into the sink before it’s all melted together. I beat and mixed everything with one measly little fork and painfully thought about how I should do more push-ups.
I plopped the whole thing into the oven and proceeded to watch Friends until the whole house smelled like cake when I suddenly remembered it’s been there a bit too long. It was chucked into the fridge until midnight nears when I carefully balanced it on one side of my bike handlebars and prayed for its safety (instead of mine) as I navigated late night traffic to Nasty’s apartment.
While cutting the cake, Nasty casually commented that it was, “um, very firm“, and upon eating it, declared that it’s “more brownie than cake“. After it’s set in his fridge overnight, and he’s had more of it, the verdict is that I’ve really made “one giant brownie“. The fact that it’s actually edible, stayed cake-shaped, and he’s still eating it (or so he says) – I’ll take that as a sign of success!