I don’t exactly remember how it all started, but knowing me it went something like this:
June 2009, Twitterland:
@realdawnsummers says Oh, my birthday is coming up. But as I am all shy and unassuming I won’t tell anybody.
@astinto says, hey @realdawnsummers isn’t your birthday coming up? I will make you a caramel cake!
@realdawnsummers: Oh you don’t have to go through all that trouble for little ole me, being that I am all shy and unassuming.
But @astinto insists! And makes an amazing superfantastic caramel cake for me, but when he tries to hand deliver it…on horseback, the mean border patrol guy will not allow baked goods to be brought into America. You know, because of the constant fear that jealous Canadians will try to poison us by capitalizing on our weakness for delicious, delicious baked goods. And so @astinto ate my delicious caramel cake all by himself. And probably gave some to the stupid cats just to spite me. Jerk.
So fast forward a year:
CARAMEL CAKE! A lifetime supply of caramel cake!
Why, I am going to have me some cake RIGHT NOW!
OH NO. What the hell is this??? I have to COOK THIS CAKE? Damn you @astinto, damn you TO HAYLE! Why are you trying to have me burn my house down?? #RUDE.
Sure, the instructions seem simple enough…and no fire is required, but what the heck is this one tablespoon, one teaspoon thing? Really? They couldn’t just say three teaspoons? <_ < The last time I attempted a coffee cake in a bag, mixing project, well...actually, no need to revisit that unpleasantness. The aroma has mostly left the kitchen walls and my eyebrow has grown back nicely. But okay. I am a grown woman with TWO ivy League degrees, I CAN DO THIS! And if I can't, I will record every step and you will all see that the failure was NOT my fault, but the fault of this racist caramel cake. Here goes:
(Massage the caramel packet)
(Drizzle in the massaged caramel.)
Allow to cool. (The picture makes my caramel cake look much more radioactive than it looked in real life.)
I highly recommend this product if you are trying to amuse little kids. Like if I could do it, without burning anything or having a nervous breakdown, I figure it’d be perfect for three-five year olds. And they’ll get instant gratification. They will also probably end up fat and diabetic, but everybody has their crosses to bear, no?
Astin, also sent me the “And the Heart Says Whatever” book which Snaps recommended.
All in all a kick ass and delicious birthday package! Thanks!