So, for your bakery-related entertainment, I present to you a double feature!
We have today, for your drool-worthy delight, a chocolate half-sheet cake decorated as a Vikings-themed football field, and a Double Chocolate Raspberry torte coated with ganache and accented with a drizzled chocolate lace garnish.
Chocolate cake batter - a delicious amalgamation that includes butter, chocolate, eggs and vanilla. Everything a growing girl needs. It tastes way better than the boxed batter.
Baked half sheet cake. I really need to invest in a heating core next time I do anything larger than an 8" cake. Baking it at 200 degrees for an hour sucks.
Golden Yellow, Violet, and Kelly Green. Wilton should fucking sponsor me.
Derek is a Viking fan, and so his wife ordered a cake decorated like a football field. I even bought a Wilton 'hair/grass' tip to decorate the field. What happens right as I'm about to begin filling in the field? I can't find the damned tip I JUST BOUGHT. So he got a star field instead.
Double Chocolate Raspberry torte batter - chocolate, butter, eggs, vanilla and dark raspberry liquer. Yum!
The finished torte - filled with seedless raspberry jam.
Hand-piped chocolate lace to garnish the sides.
And if that wasn't enough, the whole thing is drenched in chocolate ganache. :)
I am currently listening to NPR's Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me! It's pretty motherfucking hilarious. If you haven't listened to it before, you can find it here. There was a huge controversy over a comment that Mo Rocca made back in February of 2009 about sweaters. I laughed my ass off. And Paula Poundstone is pretty damned funny, too. I could have gotten in trouble with the volume of my laughter when Kevin Fitzgerald (a former rock 'n' roll bouncer who has worked with the Grateful Dead, Rolling Stones and Ozzy Osbourne) was talking about his current career as a large animal veterinarian and confessed his fear of spiders.
(I'm terrified of spiders, by the way. Not as terrified as Hubby, who makes ME kill the spiders in our house.)
A man brought in a giant spider and said, "I just don't think he's acting like himself" and "his legs are falling off". Kevin's response was, "Well, when a spider's legs are falling off it means it's seriously ill." And without an examination he sent him to a gentleman who specializes in spiders. The Dr. calls him and says, "Did you tell this man that when a spider's legs are falling off it means it's ill?" and Kevin says, "Yes." The Dr. responds, "If you would have taken the time to examine it, you would have realized the the legs falling off means that the spider is DEAD."
I almost pissed my pants laughing. And when he talks about how he was thinking the best cure for a spider not acting like itself is a phone book... Oh dear lord.
Last night I decided that, the hell with it, I'm going to get my hairs trimmed. My ends were so split even Bobby and Whitney were like, "You need to work this shit out." I wasn't quite to the straw-farm-in-a-third-world-country stage, but it was creeping it's way up.
Now it's happy and healthy again. I can run my fingers through it without it cutting me up. :)
Son has, as I've mentioned before, an obsession with pretending to be He-Man. Last night, I was upgraded from Skeletor to Cringer, the faithful tiger sidekick. Who is a total pussy until he's transformed. But it's adorable, it sounds like he's saying, "Krincher" and "Skedegor". And when he holds aloft his mighty Cars umbrella and goes, "By the Power of Greyskull!" and makes the crashing noises, then holds the umbrella with both hands and goes, "I have the power!" It's just too funny. At least it's not Barbie in Some Gay Ballet That We Adapted That Sucks Total Ass.
And for that, Hubby is grateful. :)