My latest crafty homemaker project: cake decorating. I took a class and have a certificate signed by a Paula Deen look-alike, so this is totally legit. A couple added perks: my cakes are much more artful than my classmates’, who favored character cakes and florescent rosebuds. I go the classic route. Also my skin is less leathery and over-tanned than theirs. Nobody wants a leathery cake baker. And, due to my nearly translucent epidermis, I’m less likely to fall pray to skin cancer and an early death, meaning I can make your little rabbit’s first birthday cake, and her seventy-first. That’s a promise.
(This one bled because I decorated it too soon after smoothing it with a hot, wet spatula. These aren’t typical results, unless it’s 2:30 A.M. on your birthday and you’re determined to decorate your own birthday cake while your husband is pleading with you, tearfully begging for you to just go to sleep. He doesn’t understand that this is no time for the voice of reason; there are garlands and shells and stars to be made before you’re actually twenty-three.)
I’m working on creating an almost all organic, local or fair-trade cake. For now, though, this icing contains a cup of Crisco and is the culprit of a heap of recent plumbing problems. I have to go eat a spoon full of it now while I read Moby Dick in bed. Then I’ll go for a long run tomorrow…tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it.
Your bona fide cake artisan,
Mary Ann
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Sue Watins