Channeling Martha

Today is my eldest daughter's birthday. I wanted to do something a little special for her on our famjam today -- throw my heart and soul into  a cake mix rather than take the civilized easy way out and just buy one. Oh my intentions were noble indeed. I think I inhaled a little too much flour dust because my enthusiasm got a little out of hand and I decided to also tackle a gluten free cake for my middle daughter, whose birthday was just over a week ago.

"Go for it!" my inner domestic goddess voice shrieked. In a matter of minutes pans were being greased amid a flour storm of baking activity and copious amounts of gluten free flour and organic raw sugar and honey were being tossed into the gooey stew of apple cranberry cake. I was in baking ecstasy and feeling pretty darn proud of myself -  until I tasted the batter. Maybe I have been eating wheat too long, but the uncooked gluten free cake had a consistency like plaster of paris and tasted alot like corn starch. I added more cloves and cinnamon and hoped that the cooked version would be edible.

The gluten free apple cake sat queued on the stove waiting while the marble bundt cake baked. The heavenly smell of cinnamon baking filled the house - and the anticipation mounted. One down and the other cake baking away, I flipped the bundt cake over and gently  pounded the tin with my hammer. Then ever so slowly, I lifted the pan to reveal my culinary wonder. Cr@p! Half the cake stayed in the pan --- another "avalanche" special (my signature dish).

Thanks to a healthy application of icing, the cake made like Humpty Dumpty and was carefully put back together. I admit as I sat wilted covered in flour amid the clutter of dirty spatulas, bowls, and batter splattered countertops I felt defeated - and regretted my ambitious intentions.

I needn't have worried. According to my daughter, the apple cake was the best gluten free cake she ever tasted. I slipped her a twenty and hugged her for joy. My eldest daughter pretended not to notice the slight sagging of the marble cake as the icing slowly melted down the middle. She happily blew out her candles and no one seemed the wiser. She gets a twenty for tact and diplomacy!

To be totally cliche, all's well that end's well.  I dodged a bullet but I think I am going to hang up my apron for a bit.