Sometimes, The Devil is a Gentleman

This is one of those posts that will be more of an experiment in thought than in local food.

I had spent the day working. Packing, cleaning and sorting through my belongings. I was planning to spend the afternoon baking a cake for a friend—a friend who, along with her significant other, has made a habit of treating other friends to delicious, themed birthday cakes. I was really excited about this cake, and about doing something nice for my friend(s), who so frequently do(es) nice things for everyone else. But I was also a bit sick, tired of packing, and emotionally weary from the relative state of upheaval my life has been in of late. So I wanted to get to work so I could get a good night’s sleep later on.

In the midst of all the action, my sister called.

We had a great conversation.  I really, really needed a good talk, and so did she. My cake got abandoned, and so did packing and resume-writing. But oh, what a good conversation! We discussed those things everything one needs to discuss with one’s sister when both are feeling tired and in need of an emotional brain dump. The next thing I knew, an hour had gone by. When I got off the phone, the guilt was attacking full force.

Guilt! Why does it plague me? Oddly enough, my sister and I had just been talking about our bad habit of feeling guilty about everything. I was still going to be able finish the cake, so why did I feel so guilty about it? Why is it a sin to put myself first once in a while? And similarly, why do I feel so guilty about writing a blog post about cake, when this is supposed to be a local food blog? After all, I needed the break. I deserved it. And this is my blog! I can write about whatever I damn well please!

And to be honest, I am really pleased to write about cake.

So as I continued making my cake, and pondering my guilt, I defiantly decided to enjoy every single moment of it. I licked the beaters. I sang along to a great CD. I laughed when I splattered chocolate all over the wall. I even greased up a little cupcake tin and emptied the scrapings from the batter bowl into it, so that I could have my very own cupcake, a la Bridesmaids (the movie, go see it!) because I wouldn’t be around to enjoy the cake itself. I didn’t feel guilty at all about saving a bit for myself.

After the guilt attack had passed (I had cured it with indulgence), and I was grinning my face off while dancing around the kitchen to “Dance ‘Til the End of Time,” by Steven McKay, cake beater in hand and chocolate cake batter dripping down my arm, I thought, “Yes. This is exactly what I want to be doing right now.”

That, my friends, is what happens when you quit being a baby and enjoy your life.

But wait-- don't completely stop being a baby. It's always good to remain a child at heart. Which is why I made a . . . 

Money Cake

You can use any cake recipe, and any icing for this cake. I used Devil's Food cake, which I thought was appropriate, since money is the root of all evil. The cream cheese icing was just for some added decadence. 

I think that this is a tradition dating back for hundreds of years, but in my experience it has just been an awesome way of making a birthday party extra special. Of course, there is a choking hazard, so obviously you need to warn your guests. And don't feed this cake to small children. But if everyone knows what to expect, it can be a lot of fun. I have also heard of a New Years tradition in which the individuals who get the largest coins being named King and Queen for the day, so that's a nice added twist if you like. 

All you really have to do is wash the coins with soap and water, and add a vinegar rinse if you are like me and want to make sure they are really clean. Then, wrap each coin in tin foil, and drop them in to the cake at random before you put it in the oven. As long as each coin is well covered in batter, the cake bakes up like  normal, and you have a money cake! 

This blog post is dedicated to Alison.