Some of you may remember the pics I posted on my old blog of the wondrous meals I created in my humble kitchen. I was an artist with a paring knife and a block of cheese, I swear I was. I don’t know what happened and where I went wrong though. You see, I have been wanting to try my hand at making a pound cake for several years. Finally I worked up the courage to do the deed. On Saturday morning I braved the crowds at the grocery clothes in Dolts blue and white garb. (Go Bears) I bought a bundt pan, premium flour (no store brand for me), Land O Lakes butter, brown eggs, real vanilla (not the imitation kind), I shot the grocery budget just so I could make the most perfect pound cake known to man (or woman). I am woman hear me roar and watch me cook. I am the brave almighty baker and I rule! Or maybe not. What’s that saying about the best laid plans of mice and men? Superbowl Sunday was the day. I put on my apron and spent over an hour in the kitchen whipping up the most divine pound cake known to man. (snicker) If the recipe says to bake for 80 minutes and you notice smoke coming off the charred black top of your pound cake after 65 minutes, maybe you should take it out of the oven. Unfortunately I did not. After I took the cake out of the pan and let it cool on the counter, I tapped my fingers against the rock hard sides of the cake. My dog started barking because he thought someone was banging the doorknocker at the front door. I had to take hubsters super sharp chef knife just to cut through the
What does a Hoosier do when the Superbowl is on and the Dolts two points behind the Bears and their pound cake is a black charcoal cinderblock not fit for human consumption? Go to Steak and Shake for a milkshake of course. As if there were any doubt. Go Bears!