You know who would make the best chefs if they had the technical skill and manual dexterity to do so? Toddlers. We’ve currently got a 3 year old visiting us, and she’s full of grand culinary ideas that think outside of the box. I just asked her what kind of cookies she wants to make today, and she said “strawberry cookies with chocolate in a shape like a heart with spiky hair.” It sounded a lot like “thwawbewwy cookieth with chocolate in the thape of a heawt with thpiky haiw.” But I get the picture. And it’s BRILLIANT. Chocolate covered strawberry flavored cookies. I don’t know why this hasn’t been done before. It helps that said toddler is basically an adorable genius of epic proportions. So much so that I think it may have given Chris (okay, and maybe myself) a fleeting case of the “baby-crazy,” a term coined by Chris and his friends that used to mean “chicks only want us for our sperm and are all trying to get babies from us.” It was applied EXTRA strongly to women over 30, which was the excuse they all used to date younger women. Why men think that we’re all trying to hunt them down is beyond me, as in my experience guys are WAY more desperate for glimmers of nudity than we’ll ever be, and most single women aren’t itching to garner some stretch marks while they’re still single. Or maybe that was just me? Anyway, now I get to bandy the term around in a semi-positive fashion, hoping to denounce it’s implications of desperation. But that’s neither here nor there.
Also, having a little girl around means I get to make all sorts of fanciful things like this:
It’s a princess castle cake! This was actually Chris’s idea, and he was really excited about it. A multi-tiered princess castle cake with edible flowers, and the promise that we’d “have a blast making it together!” Would you like to venture a guess as to which portion of the cake Chris actually participated in the construction of? None, is the answer I’m looking for. Oh yeah. Two sentences that ended in prepositions IN A ROW. Anyway, he was busy with work and I understand that completely, but the cake still took a long time to make, and tasted great. The bottom layer was white cake with layers of almond pastry cream and raspberry jam. The top layer was chocolate with raspberry filling. The whole thing was covered with vanilla buttercream frosting (the real kind) until the back turrets fell over and I had to support them with fondant. And the flowers were a mix of fondant and buttercream. The little girl, Alia, was very excited about the princess cake and was more than willing to eat all of the fondant flowers that nobody else wanted (because fondant tastes like dick).
I know he’s more than excited to play with her, and thinks it’s extra-awesome that she occasionally drops food for him to snarf faster than we can grab it. Anyway, that’s why I’ve been bad about blogging this week. Tune in tomorrow for stories about Alia’s cookie invention, the Hatch chili festival, and the quest for a recipe I’ve never heard of, can’t find on the internet, yet am supposed to make for Chris’s work colleague. The best part is that it involves cooking bacon, the most fragrant of meats, in the same house with a pregnant vegetarian. I’m hoping I can accomplish this without causing her to be sick. I’m guessing I will be largely unsuccessful.