Funfetti Cake, Bad Feminist, and Other FUNdamental Stuff
When I was little, I remember making a list of things I absolutely for sure needed to do before I graduated college. Before you get excited, let me just remind you of how utterly lame I am by telling you that item number one was 'understand budgeting.' And no, before you ask, I never quite got there. This list included things I considered (at the ripe age of 18) to be barring me from absolute adulthood and also featured two things I like to think I've accomplished by now: develop a "sense of good taste" in reading and bake a layer cake. Upon reflection, I had no idea what actual adulthood would demand of me, and should've probably stayed in high school forever. Alas.
Fast forward to the spring before I graduated. I finally successfully made a three layer cake. It took me 48 hours, two mental breakdowns, and a bottle of red wine. The cake was beautiful, delicious, and practically perfect, and I swore I'd never make it again. Fast forward AGAIN to now. I'm older. Better. Stronger. Smarter. More beautiful? Correct answer: none of the above.
I know this because last week, I set out to make a mini layer cake (mini because I know my limits as well as I do my aging metabolism), and discovered that I am just as bad at it as I remember. I don't have the patience to let the cake cool before icing it. I don't remember to preheat the oven. I eat so much of the icing that I need to make another batch of icing in order to actually ice the whole cake. I am an imperfect baker. I admit this. But I can come back the next day and try again. Which actually worked out pretty well (check it out here and give it a go yourself).
Turns out, I picked the perfect book to go with my incredibly taxing and girly cake: Bad Feminist. The whole book is about how even though we're all just made up of contradictions and messy parts, that's no excuse to suck. Life lesson = learned. Cake = devoured. And, for the record, Tums = taken.