Peek-a-boo Penis Pound Cake (Happy Valentine’s Day?)
I have to admit I’m not that into Valentine’s Day besides, you know, the part about chocolate. But Pinterest is way into Valentine’s Day, as evidenced thusly:
Image from veryculinary.com
That’s some pretty cool shit, even if you’re not into Valentine’s Day, right?
Also, the blog post claims it’s super easy, even though it involves baking not one, but two cakes.
So I gamely set to work on my first cake.
Notice how it’s still light outside in the above picture. You’ll need that information later.
I mixed my ingredients (and may have slightly cooked my eggs with my hot melted butter… oops).
It was only at this point that I realized I did not have a bread pan. No, nary a regular-sized bread pan in my entire kitchen. You might think this is weird, but I cannot remember ever making bread in anything but my breadmaker, and my breadmaker is in the very back of a corner cabinet without a spinny thing, so that tells you how often I even do that.
I did find four mini loaf pans. No, I don’t know why I have them. I am guessing they were a gift from my mother-in-law, who likes mini things because they are cute. (They are cute, though, aren’t they?)
Anyway, resolved to make tiny versions of the peek-a-boo cakes, I mixed up my cake mix. I followed the directions on the blog post for the ingredients rather than the directions on the box, and I’m not sure that was the wisest move. The batter turned out a little… sticky.
At this point I wondered if it was a problem with my eggs. You guys remember when I made those football things? Well, I had some leftover shell-less eggs in my refrigerator from that experiment that had been sitting there for about a week. I’m not exactly sure how long eggs “keep” when they’re already out of their shells, and I admit that these looked a little bit… off. So I did something unprecedented for me: I did not lick the batter.
I spooned it into the bread pans…
But not a drop touched my lips, I swear. This was mostly because I figured if the eggs were going to kill me, they’d be more likely to do it before I baked them. I guess this is true all the time, but for some reason, cracking a fresh egg into batter and then licking that is less scary to me than plooping a weirdly oozy old shell-less egg into batter and then licking that potentially poison sticky pink goo. No thank you.
Anyway, they seemed to turn out ok.
Notice how the sun is setting in this picture. That’s because I baked a goddamn cake (actually, four) and it took a while.
Then I let the cakes cool and put them in the refrigerator to cool some more until they were so cool they almost stormed the stage at the Grammys and demanded that cupcakes give their award to souffles, because souffles are fucking art, man.
So, like, three hours later, I sliced my cake.
Notice that the sun has now set on my day and also the number of craps I give.
By this time, I had remembered that there was, indeed, one regular sized bread pan in the house, which is a good thing, because my cookie cutters were too small to use on the short side of the mini breads. So I cut them the long way and got out my trusty (you guessed it) penis cookie cutter. (What, you expected me to have a regular old heart-shaped cookie cutter? How long have you been here?)
At this point I guess I should mention that the one regular size bread pan I have is in the shape of a basket full of pumpkins. Yeah, I don’t know either. I think what happened was that I had more than one bread pan and in the Great Kitchen Cleanout of 2010, I decided I only needed one bread pan, and somehow the one with the pumpkins made the cut. I may have been delirious by the time I made that decision, as I had already sorted through about 1100 coffee mugs.
Anyway, I filled the pumpkin holes with white batter.
And then carefully arranged the delicate little pink penii on top. (I know normally it doesn’t work to fill the hole and then add the penis, but trust me this once.)
On the plus side, when you make two cakes and turn them into one cake, there are leftovers– in this case, a bag of leftover penises. (“Leftover Penises” would be an awesome band name. Someone take that.)
The moment of truth remained, though. Would there be penis inside?
(Could I get a surprise penis drumroll, please?)
YES! Long live the surprise penis cake!
