I have to admit something, and I really don't think you're going to like it. Buckle your seat belts folks, because:
I.... I don't like cake.
There, I said it. And it's not entirely true. I love everything about cake, except for the part where you eat it. I love the way it looks, I love making batter and slathering frosting all over them perfect cake rounds. I even love slicing them and gazing for an inappropriate amount of time at the layers. In my opinion, cake is the most beautiful thing on earth– but when it comes to sticking my fork into a slice, I am usually the person asking for "just a sliver" or leaving most of it on the plate. There it is- my deepest darkest secrect. Please don't judge me too harshly.
I think my dislike of cake could be interpreted as finickiness, because there are certain components and combinations of cake that I certainly will go to town on- it's just a matter of putting them together in a manner that I deem acceptable. Which is why I almost always make my own birthday cake. It gives me an excuse to go a little overboard, because you know, it's my birthday. And that way I get to have it just the way I like it.
On Wednesday I turned 23, and I had one of the best days I've had since I graduated from college. To celebrate, I whipped up a batch of Swiss Meringue and spread it onto a pink strawberry layer cake, filled with key lime custard. Now that is what I call cake. Sadly, I didn't take any pictures of the inside, because it disappeared rather quickly.
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