Tuesday, April 12, 2011

chocolate cake

julie cline, eat your heart out.
just kidding.  admire from afar, and the next time i'm home, i'll make this.  i promise.

this weekend, caroline and i baked this cake from scratch.  barefoot contessa, do you ever do me wrong?  you know i love you, girl.  sure, paula deen is exciting, spunky, and keeps me on my toes, but you ina garten / barefoot contessa, you are my constant companion.  my friend, my confidant.  i can cozy up on the couch on a rainy day and read one book while you read another, without speaking for hours, and feel oh-so content.  there's something to be said for that.

and there's something to be said for this cake.

oh my yum.

i would convert religions for this cake.

mouth. is. watering.

in short, it was perfect.  it was moist, the icing-to-cake ratio just right, and the overall flavor was chocolaty sweet, without being too overwhelmingly rich.  in fact, i couldn't finish my first piece because it was too big, not too cloying.  (by the way, that never happens.  i always finish my food; i am a food finishing champion.  as a result, i have perfected my food baby.  so much so that i once pooched out my usually normal-sized stomach to show off my food baby to my dad, and he asked me to stop because it made him feel uncomfortable.  i may or may not have also tried to pooch out a food baby the entire time i walked through a wal mart once with some friends.  unfortunately this task was too daunting, and i failed to food baby my way beyond a few steps in the parking lot).

anyway, caroline and i have been baking an awful lot lately.  three weekends ago we made oatmeal peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies (but substituted pretzel m&ms for the chocolate chips), two weeks ago we made jenna's double banana chocolate chip breakfast bars, and now this cake.  she is my food soulmate, and i swear i may have to live near her all my life just so i always have someone to cook / bake / go halvesies with.  i mean, we have a plan to let ourselves go together.  what a pair of crazy betty crockers we are.

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