There’s good news, and there’s bad news…

June 7, 2011

The good news: This cake is delicious.

Check out the recipe and make you this stuff. It's Sweet Baby Jesus good.

Recipe here. Pay no attention to the looks. The springform pan from hell refused to release (Bad News No. 1) and wouldn’t turn loose of the damn thing, so I wound up scooping it out. Springform pan from hell now residing in the bottom of my trashcan; it’s ruined two cakes for me, and damned if it gets another chance.

The other bad news: My kitchen has been invaded by ants, who got under the plastic wrap in which I had lovingly encased the remains of said cake, so I got One Stinking Piece.

It’s superbly moist, because it’s got a cup of ricotta cheese in it; it’s got some zing from the lemon zest, and some body and more moistness from the grated apple (I used Granny Smith). The peaches, part of the farmers’ market haul, are simply peeled, sliced, sprinkled with a bit of sugar, and refrigerated to make a wonderful fresh peach compote. That’s lightly sweetened creme fraiche on top.

At least the damned ants didn’t get the peaches.

Ants? Listen to me, you thieving little bastards. Give me time to get to Lowe’s for the most powerful insecticide they make, and your collective asses are MINE, do you Hear Me? We will have no more of this poaching on the good stuff. Nor the less than good stuff, for that matter.

Not that there’s been much of either lately. Work has been hellish, and does not promise to get much better this week. It will be a damn sight  better next week, thank you very much, because I will be in sunny Hilton Head with Child B and No. 1 Grandchild, eating shrimp and sipping Yuengling. Can I have an Amen, here? (I love a job that requires me to attend conferences that are held at resorts. Makes up for when it’s hellish.)

Anyway, I cooked leftovers Sunday, and burgers for NS, and worked late last night and tonight. Working late again tomorrow night, but at least it involves dinner, hopefully at Fusion. I’ll cook Thursday and Friday, and then spend much of Saturday in the kitchen preparing the children for a week out of town. We will cook lasagna; we will cook enchiladas; we will cook extra burgers; we’ll cook who-knows-what-else.

If you and y’mama ‘n ’em wanted to check in on the kids while I’m gone, that’d be a Good Thing. Swat any stray ants you see.


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