Sloppy Joe Cake with Cracker Jack Frosting
For guys who would probably fail to notice if your cake was uncooked, overcooked, or actually a pie in disguise.
For the cake:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (220 g) brown sugar
3 large eggs
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
½ cup (50 g) finely ground pretzels
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup (240 ml) beer
2 cups (80 g) cocoa cereal
½ cup (120 ml) peanut butter
For the frosting:
1½ cups (360 ml) heavy whipping cream
3 cups (200 g) pulverized Cracker Jacks or salted caramel popcorn
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter and flour a 12-cup (2.8-L) Bundt pan, tapping out the excess.
Beat the butter and brown sugar together until creamy, then add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, pretzels, and baking powder.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the beer; stir until just combined.
In a separate bowl, mix the cereal and peanut butter together until the cereal is uniformly coated. Spread half of the cake batter in the prepared pan, then spread the cereal and peanut butter mixture over the top. Spread the remaining cake batter over the filling, smoothing the top.
Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides with a knife and invert onto a wire rack to cool completely. Transfer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: In a chilled bowl, using a chilled whisk or electric mixer with the whisk attachment, whip the cream and Cracker Jacks until stiff peaks form. Spread over the cooled cake, or serve on the side for dolloping onto slices.
The Guy Who Was Married
This guy was sitting with a big group of friends, telling a story in a Sean Connery accent. It took me a whole round of cake distribution to realize he was legitimately Scottish, and his table was full of expats.
Maybe it’s because Europeans have a more significant pub culture than we do, or maybe it’s just because they’re better at socialized drinking, but I was very quickly welcomed into their merry clan. The Scotsman exuded the same level of warmth and inclusion as a Tennessee church picnic, and I thought maybe I could fit right in. Maybe his people could become my people. Maybe I could work my way to dual citizenship, even if he was starting to go gray.
The Scotsman declared my baking was so good that he would leave his wife and son for me, who I then found out not only existed but were drinking within earshot—to my great surprise, a son old enough to be a viable dating candidate for me.
While I’d approached these endeavors with an attitude of all-inclusiveness, I hadn’t exactly intended to attract married men with adult sons. No harm had been done, of course, just some cultural discussions over cake consumption, but it was a valuable warning for the future.
Don’t get carried away by dreams of dual citizenship until you know the guy is looking for a mutual return.
Great Scot Skirlie Cake with Toffee Frosting
For tea parties, European tourists, and married company partial to oats.
For the cake:
½ cup (40 g) rolled oats
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1½ cups (330 g) brown sugar
4 ounces (½ block/115 g) cream cheese, at room temperature
3 large eggs
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
For the frosting:
1 cup (240 ml) heavy cream
½ cup (15 g) pulverized toffee bars
To make the cake: In a small saucepan, combine the oats and 1 cup (240 ml) of water and cook over medium heat until the oats are soft and thickened, 7 to 10 minutes. Set aside to cool completely.
Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter and flour a 12-cup (2.8-L) Bundt pan, tapping out the excess.
Beat the butter and brown sugar together until creamy. Beat in the cream cheese, then add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the cooled oatmeal; stir until just combined. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top.
Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides with a knife and invert onto a wire rack to cool completely. Transfer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: In a chilled bowl, using a chilled whisk or electric mixer with the whisk attachment, whip the cream and toffee bars until stiff peaks form. Spread over the cooled cake, or serve on the side for dolloping onto slices.
The Guy Who Acted Interested
He was by far the most thrilled person I had ever offered cake to. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he gushed. (That is, my offering him a piece of cake in a bar for free.)
He was so charismatic, I thought maybe I should start bringing him along on future cake outings for morale; with his energy and little-boy face, he seemed more like a cheerful sidekick than a romantic prospect. I was just about to run this idea by him when he looked me in the face and said, “I’m really interested in dating you.”
“Oh,” I said, taken aback, wondering how this could possibly be the case, not remembering this was the goal of the entire project.
“Are you not available?” he asked.
“No, yes, I’m available,” I said, and gave him my number, supremely flustered.
I talked myself into believing I could handle someone this spry, who was clearly several years younger than I was and not completely jaded by the privileged troubles of living in L.A. yet. After worrying that our mutual cheerfulness would turn dark and competitive, I decided that I should still go out with him. No one ever came right out and announced they were interested in dating you, and that directness was worth a lot.
I never heard from him again.
Pretzel Roulette Cake with Pistachio Filling
For bouncy company and young adults prone to rash declarations and changing their minds.
For the cake:
½ cup (100 g) sugar
3 large eggs
1 cup (125 g) all-purpose flour
½ cup (50 g) finely ground pretzels
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ cup (60 ml) plain yogurt
1 tablespoon finely ground pistachios
For the filling:
¾ cup (180 ml) heavy whipping cream
3 tablespoons finely ground pistachios
⅛ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon confectioners’ sugar
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Line a 9-by-12-inch (23-by-30-cm) baking sheet with waxed paper or parchment paper.
Beat the sugar and eggs together until foamy.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, pretzels, and baking powder.
Add the flour mixture to the sugar mixture, then add the yogurt, then the pistachios. Spread the batter into the prepared sheet.
Bake for about 10 minutes, or until the consistency is firm and cakelike.
Have a clean, damp kitchen towel ready for when you take the cake out of the oven. Slide the cake, still on the paper, onto the towel. Starting from a short side, roll the cake up, still on the paper, and wrap it in the towel, forming a roll. Let cool for 30 minutes.
To make the filling: In a chilled bowl, using a chilled whisk or electric mixer with the whisk attachment, whip the cream, pistachios, and salt until stiff peaks form. Unroll and unwrap the cake, being careful not to tear it. Spread the filling
over the flattened cake, then roll it back up and transfer to a serving platter, seam-side down. Dust with the confectioners’ sugar.
HAVEN’T WE MET?
Commonly Encountered Boy Personalities
(1) The Artist Wearing an Old Man Sweater
(2) The Guy Trying to Pull Off a Shark-tooth Necklace
(3) The Proselytizing Nonprofit Worker
(4) The Affable Musician Who Works Part-time at Starbucks
(5) The Guy Who Invests in Business Models You Don’t Understand
(6) The Guy Who Just Wants to Go Home
(7) The Skeptical Skinny Freelancer
(8) The Eccentric Guy Who Works at the Farmers’ Market
(9) The Guy Who Dives Right in to Sober Karaoke
(10) The Schmoozy Hollywood Guy with Veneers
Cakes for Crushing Losses, Sour Realizations, and Frustrated Efforts
There’s no other way to say it: these are cakes for eating your feelings. They’ve been paired with my accounts of promising interactions gone wildly astray. This is your go-to chapter for moping, mourning, and commiserating with cake during times of disillusionment, but you’re going to have to rejoin society once the tartness wears off. Sometimes you just have to get back in the kitchen and crank out another cake to take to a bar.
The Guy Who Said You’ll Never Meet Anyone in This Town
This gentleman was English, which made him seem especially authoritative when he started dispensing unprompted dating advice over cake.
“Los Angeles is a terrible place to meet people,” he said.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Because the number one emotion in this town is desperation,” he said. “Look around.”
We took in the crowd: lots of hot people hoping to get noticed by other hot people who could maybe get them a better job. I had managed to forget that this was the same population that made up my dating pool, and remembering this was not only troubling, but I, too, now seemed just as desperate as these schmoozers in my so-called desperation to bait a boyfriend. My very cake reeked of despondency.
It was only later when comfort-eating cake in the laptop glow of Netflix that I considered I could still meet someone normal. Young people who flocked to big cities had great ambitions and some notion of a work ethic, and I probably wanted to date someone who had plans for their life past living in their parents’ basement. I wasn’t desperate to find a boyfriend—I was just being proactive about it.
Skinny Espresso Cake, No Whip
For actors and model friends who can smell a piece and feel almost as if they ate some.
For the cake:
¾ cup (1½ sticks/170 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (200 g) sugar
4 large eggs
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons instant espresso powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup (240 ml) sour cream
¾ cup (125 g) bittersweet chocolate chips
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter and flour a 12-cup (2.8-L) Bundt pan, tapping out the excess.
Beat the butter and sugar together until creamy, then add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, espresso powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the sour cream; stir until just combined. Stir in the chocolate chips, then pour into the prepared pan and smooth the top.
Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides with a knife and invert onto a wire rack to cool completely. Transfer to a serving platter.
The Guy Who Came with a Party Bus
This guy was the ringleader of his group, or at least its most sober representative. He had led an entire party bus full of guys wearing ugly Christmas sweaters into the bar, who now swarmed the karaoke machine and were revving up to perform. “I apologize in advance for us,” he said. “Please let me know if we get too loud.”
I couldn’t believe my luck—someone conscientious and down for dressing up. I asked if he wanted a piece of cake.
“You’re so nice to ask,” he said. “But I’m going to get a drink. We’re only at our first stop of the night.” He gestured toward the rest of his party bus mates, already in the throes of *NSYNC.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a small piece? Maybe one for later?” I asked.
“No, thank you,” he said, not unkindly. “Thank you so much for asking anyway.”
This genuinely polite dismissal set the tone for the rest of the night; not one of these guys in Santa sweaters wanted any cake, and they were all so flipping nice about it. I rotated around the bar to a chorus of well-meaning no-thank-yous and I-really-appreciate-its. Who were these gracious boys, and why weren’t they hungry? I thought surely their zeal for karaoke would die down and they’d find their way over to our table. They’d grow to want cake. They’d want to talk to us. The strategy would work.
It didn’t. They were still singing “Bye Bye Bye” when we left the bar.
The bonds of brotherhood can prevail over even the most worthwhile of distractions, i.e., cute girls and cake.
Gin and Tonic Cake with Lime Zest Frosting
For those inclined to drink or eat away their sorrows.
For the cake:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (200 g) sugar
2 large eggs, separated
Grated zest of 1 lemon
Grated zest of 1 lime
¼ teaspoon cream of tartar
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup (120 ml) gin
½ cup (120 ml) 7UP
For the frosting:
1½ cups (360 ml) heavy whipping cream
2 tablespoons gin
1 teaspoon tonic
1 tablespoon lime juice
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter two 9-inch (23-cm) round cake pans, line the bottoms with rounds of parchment paper, and dust the pans with flour, tapping out the excess.
Beat the butter and sugar together until creamy, then add the egg yolks, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Add the lemon and lime zests.
In a separate bowl, using an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whip the egg whites and cream of tartar together until soft peaks form; set aside.
In another bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the gin and 7UP; stir until just combined, then gently fold in the whites until all the ingredients are thoroughly incorporated. Divide the batter between the prepared pans.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of a cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides with a knife and invert onto wire racks to cool completely. Peel off the parchment and transfer one cake layer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: In a chilled bowl, using a chilled whisk or electric mixer with the whisk attachment, whip the cream, gin, tonic, lime juice, and vanilla until stiff peaks form. Spread some of the frosting over the bottom cake layer, top with the second cake layer, and spread the remaining frosting over the top and sides.
The Guy Who Criticized the Cake
It’s only about once a year that I become deeply, unreasonably enraged. My blood gets hot, my thought process turns hazy, and I feel like taking a baseball bat to something and destroying all the goodwill I’ve built up during two decades of otherwise benevolent behavior.
This was a really close call.
The guy s
eemed nice enough in the beginning; he’d even offered to buy me a drink. He had just started eating the cake when I did something odd, which was ask him how it was. I never did this. Usually, people knew to say something positive about the cake almost immediately after accepting it; it was the unspoken understanding that came along with eating homemade dessert in front of the person who had slaved over it.
“The frosting is good,” he said. “But the cake is a little dry.”
I thought maybe I should set down my cake knife and walk away. I thought maybe I should dump a glass of ice water on my head to prevent an outburst. Perhaps it was my duty to pull this guy outside and gently break it to him that this was the absolute worst thing you could tell a baker, that he and his friends should probably leave now before things got ugly. But I didn’t say anything.
I managed to change the subject and keep myself from breathing fire, although anything else we talked about that night has been completely forgotten in the aftermath of that dry cake comment, a real culinary affront after all the hours it took to bake the cake, frost it, and strategize the serving of it to people like him.
People who say your cake is dry are dead to you.
Olive Oil Cake with Sesame Seed Frosting
For people who don’t appreciate your job performance, housekeeping, or toils in the kitchen. On second thought, don’t offer them cake at all.
For the cake:
1 cup (200 g) sugar
3 large eggs
¾ cup (180 ml) olive oil
⅓ cup (75 ml) lemon juice
2 cups (255 g) all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
For the frosting:
1½ cups (360 ml) sour cream
Sitting in Bars with Cake: Lessons and Recipes from One Year of Trying to Bake My Way to a Boyfriend Page 4
