So aging has its privileges. Tonite, for example, my girlfriend wunderfoodie Becca brought me the most delicious cake. It's a giant s'more. We've camped together so knows what a s'more snob I am. How I use dark chocolate and have to get it melty before I'll put on the mallow and top graham cracker. So when she found a recipe for a s'more cake in one of her fancy pants cook books, she thought of me. It starts with a sponge cake that she made out of graham flour. Then chocolate ganache. Then you MAKE your own marshmallow using beakers and thermometers and magic wands, roll them together and shave chocolate on top. It was to die for. Or at least worth turning 40 for.
Bea, on the other hand, is happy to eat snow.
5 comments:
Just so you know in advance, nothing says 42 like a whoopie pie.
As Homer would say, "Mmmmm...s'mores...aaarghlchh"--do you think that's how to spell leaning your head back with your tongue sticking out and drooling?"
Happy belated birthday!
As soon as I read the recipe for that cake, I cried out, "This is the Cake for Heather's 40th! I just know it." Thank you for letting me be part of the amazing weekend. I would make it again for you in a new york minute.
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