The urge to make this cake was unreal and I have Bon Appetit to blame. This magazine is quite often a curse to my grocery budget. Every month, they have some fantastic dessert concoction that I can not help, but bake. This month, was no different. Even the cover lured me in, “Crazy Delicious Desserts”. I swear to you, I try not to go to or by a newsstand for this purpose, this very magazine. I even ended my subscription because I just could not help myself and was over chocola-fying my kidlets (well, atleast the oldest kid, the little one is a freak and does not like chocolate).
I bought the issue (September 2010) and set out to make the, Chocolate-Malt Cake. For the record, I walked back and forth trying to decide whether or not I would cave. I tried to fight it. I failed.
First. I don’t readily keep Ovaltine on hand, nor do I know where to find it in the commissary. With two sick kids and me walking up and down every aisle, fun times ensued. I’m surprise they didn’t kick me out, due to my 3 year old sitting in the basket having a panic-fest over me not allowing her to toss the banana’s around like a kickball. I eventually found the Ovaltine, 45 minutes into my shopping trip.
Second. Guess what else I don’t have? A kitchen torch. Why? Good question. I’m 92% sure I do not have one because my husband fears I will burn the house down or my ignite my hair or…even better, light these ugly shorts he continues to wear despite my pleading to donate them to goodwill. I bet he’s afraid of the latter because he took them with him when he deployed, to keep them safe.
So, with my newly acquired Ovaltine and lack of kitchen torch I set out making the cake. At around 11pm last night, I finished all of the pieces and started to assemble the cake to be chilled.
If you are thinking ahead, you will have already figured out why not having a kitchen torch could be an issue. I googled, “Substitue for kitchen torch” and found an overwhelming number of people said to just, ‘broil it’. YAY! I can broil!
No. I can’t broil. Do marshmallows brown under the broiler? No, no they don’t. Not at all. What they do, do is expand to the size of regular marshmallows. Drat. So, I lit a match (it’s a wonder hubby left these here for me). And I browned those marshmallows (and burnt some of them). Then, I chilled. Actually, the cake chilled, I went to bed.
7 am this morning. I took the cake out and completed it.
TA DA! (OH MY! THAT IS A WICKED HUGE PICTURE! IT’S THE CAKE MONSTER!) (I fixed it, worry not, the cake is not going to take over your screen now)
Of course, I had to send the first picture to hubs. Ohhh, you want this? That’s too bad. I guess you’ll have to come home…
Then. I ate it. Well some of it. My mom asked me what I was going to do with this cake.
Mom: “What are you going to do with it.”
Me: “Leave it on the counter and stare at it. What do you think I’m going to do?”
Then my oldest hellion came running over.
I knew I should have hid it because if you give a kid some cake, she’s just going to follow you around all day.
Michael Pollan’s food rule #58 “Eat all the junk food you want as long as you cook it yourself.” Check. Although something tells me that he probably would not approve of my Ovaltine use. I don’t even consider it a legitimate food, but the cake sure is darn good.