Red Velvet Cake, or Not
I made a Valentine-shaped red velvet cake with cream cheese icing tonight. I’ve never made one of these before, even though red velvet cake is a family tradition on my father’s side. For some reason, however, I decided to give it a try tonight.
The cake is done. It looks really nice, all heart-shaped and covered with cream cheese and vanilla.
But I do have a question for those of you (Anne, are you reading this?) who are experts in all things culinary: Is the batter for this cake supposed to be so thick it won’t even spread over the pan after it’s been in the oven for a while?
When I took it out of the oven, both pans looked like they contained freshly-hardened coiled lava.
I clapped them together and iced them anyway.
I’m really quite good at baking all kinds of breads and pies, but my homemade cakes all look like geological formations and taste like corn bread. Sigh.
Ice Storm!
We’ve had a pretty severe ice storm here; the public schools were closed today and they’re closed tomorrow, too, to Hub’s delight.
Classes are seldom canceled at the college level, but this ice storm was so bad, even the campuses shut down. I only wish mine had shut down BEFORE I got there. Sigh.
I have never seen the world so completely glazed before. I have never tried to walk or drive on anything so slick before.
I drove my husband’s four-wheel-drive truck to school today and I almost didn’t get there. Once I got there, I almost didn’t make it up the ramp to the parking lot. Once I got in the parking lot, I tried to park close to the building but it was too slick and the truck kept sliding backwards. So, I parked slanting downwards on the rampy lot – I figured the curb would keep the truck from sliding down the hill and into the Pizza Hut below – and went inside to send my students back home.
After about an hour, I figured anyone else who was crazy enough to venture out in this weather deserved to have an icicle fall on his/her head and penetrate the skull to have to stay there all night, so I tried to go home. The lot was so slick, the four-wheel-drive truck couldn’t back up! I tried for about fifteen minutes, rocking back and forth and gaining an inch at a time, until I finally had room to put it in “forward” and get out of there. It was no fun.
Once home, I realized I was trembling from the stress of driving on a surface so slick the dogs were Hans Brinkering across the sidewalks and roads. The ice was coming down so hard, it took out one of our big weeping willow trees. It fell across the driveway and Hub had to move it.
Yes, he moved a huge tree with his arms. Yes, he’s already aching badly. Fortunately, he can stay home tomorrow and moan. We have Tylenol.
As for me, whenever the weather is like this I want to bake. I want to go into the kitchen and make all kinds of breads and pies. I want to get all the blueberries out of the freezer and use them. And, of course, I want to sit at the little kitchen table, read a novel, and watch Scrubs on DVD. I can do that while the bread’s in the oven.
Come on over. If you can make it down the driveway, you’ll be stuck here for a while until the ice melts, which is fine with me. I love company. Sit down and have some bread.
Diet coke? Glass of wine?
I love being marooned inside my house when I have plenty of books and toilet paper.
I Grieve For Fictional Characters and the Authors Who Created Them
My favorite mystery writer has died.
Phyllis Whitney, whose surprise endings surprised me every single time, died last Friday. She was 104.
I have every single Phyllis Whitney book, and I re-read them all the time. She was a masterful story-teller. Her novels were set all over the world, and whenever I read one, I got far more than just a superb mystery with a mind-blowing shocker of a surprise ending; I also got a geography lesson, a lesson in regional cooking, and a life-lesson of some kind.
Phyllis Whitney’s “Silverhill” was the first grown-up book I ever read.
Two of my favorite authors have died in the past few months: Madeleine L’Engle and now Phyllis Whitney. I counted on a new novel from both of these wonderful writers every year. What will I do now? I don’t care for bestsellers, and J.K Rowling has ended the Harry Potter series.
Dying. . . dying. . .moving on with her life. . . . don’t these people love me?
