Last night Howard and I watched the eerie 1959 French film Eyes Without a Face by Georges Franju, and the atmospheric black-and-white images go well with the name of the cake we baked today: Silver-White Cake with Snowpeak Frosting. Doesn't that make you think of the White Witch in Narnia? Or that faceless girl above? Snow White in a blizzard?
One thing I love about Howard is that he is a connoisseur of horror. Any horror movie I love (which I probably heard about here), he's already seen, so he introduces me to new things to get excited about, to inspire me, new things to love.
Dear Mitch, who knew just what I needed after baking with me a few weeks ago, gave me a gorgeous hand-mixer as a housewarming gift, along with beautiful red mixing bowls and a set of matching spatulas. The mixer--my god, the mixer--is amazing. It rendered baking an absolute snap! *cue the manic housewife head tilt, huge smile, all teeth, waving a whisk*
The butter I bought from Trader Joe's went mysteriously missing (the joy of living with roommates), and my baking powder must have been lost in the move. We had just enough butter to substitute for shortening, and Howard ran out to the corner market to buy me some baking powder. I like what he bought, because the label looks like a tarot card design.
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| oh god, the effort of walking to the corner store! |
Silver-white cake batter is really silver-white. I wish I had taken a picture, because I don't know why I thought the cake would come out still platinum as my coworker Susanna's hair. And really, it's just the top that is browned, of course. The inside is white, which made me consider cutting off the outside layers next time. Too much? The cake is super light and fluffy from four whipped-up egg whites (thanks, Mitch!). It takes just twenty minutes to bake, and came out springy, edges not in the least crusty or crumbly.
Room-temperature egg whites. Whole milk. Give the pans a shake and a smack to even out the batter before putting them in the oven. These are the things I've learned from other people.
Howard told me about a high school girl who baked cupcakes for all the girls who were mean to her. The secret ingredient: Sperm. But whose? --remained a valid question. Until I looked it up and read that there wasn't actually any bodily fluids included in the recipe. Which brought me to Octavia Spencer's character in The Help: "Eat my shit." Vengeance baking! What a wonderful new world.
However, this cake was made with nothing but joy and lightheartedness. With the marshmallow-like cake on a platter, covered in three pieces of aluminum foil, we traveled from Pilsen to Palmer Square to watch Compulsion, another 1959 movie, this one about Leopold and Loeb. The cake turned out surprisingly well, unlike the teens' "perfect" crime: the frosting went on smooth, unlike Orson Welles' makeup; it looked as angelic as the young Dean Stockwell; and the cake was as soft and airy as the cotton-headed character Ruth Evans. All in all, the cake was a success. The right tools really make a difference.
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| those little silver ball decorations would have been a good addition |
Now I just need to get some measuring spoons.
Before I end, I want to say that though this cake was so much more fun to make, and turned out clearly better, the two pies I made under such stress last week turned out quite well. The first was gone within an hour at work, with very positive reviews, and the second was enjoyed by my roommates. When I told my mom the pies nearly caused a collapse, she said, unsurprised: "Baking after a move will do that."
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