Okay, that's a huge exaggeration. It wasn't a total cake-tastrophe because it still tasted great. There's only so much one can do to harm a cake, because at the end of the day it's still chocolatey goodness...even if it's being held together by icing and raspberry spread.
For whatever reason, I couldn't really get the cake out of the pans. I buttered and floured like William Sonoma told me to, but that was all I could get out.
So I pieced the two layers together with the raspberry jam and smothered it with chocolate frosting. I thought the polka dots were cute since I quickly realized that attempting to write on the cake would only make matters worse.
It's kinda cute. And it tasted wonderful. But umm...yeah...it's a little ghetto. Did I mention that this was for my mother-in-law's 50th birthday? The nice thing about parents is that they love you even when you bake them birthday cakes that can barely support the birthday candles. (And we were only using about 10 candles.) (That was also not meant as an age joke but as a flimsy cake joke.)
For whatever reason, I couldn't really get the cake out of the pans. I buttered and floured like William Sonoma told me to, but that was all I could get out.
So I pieced the two layers together with the raspberry jam and smothered it with chocolate frosting. I thought the polka dots were cute since I quickly realized that attempting to write on the cake would only make matters worse.
It's kinda cute. And it tasted wonderful. But umm...yeah...it's a little ghetto. Did I mention that this was for my mother-in-law's 50th birthday? The nice thing about parents is that they love you even when you bake them birthday cakes that can barely support the birthday candles. (And we were only using about 10 candles.) (That was also not meant as an age joke but as a flimsy cake joke.)
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