Remember that yummy chocolate cake I made yesterday? Also remember how no one in my house eats dessert? No? Well, it’s the truth. Apart from cookies, my kids do not, as a rule, eat sweet things. (I have a theory that this may be why V is the grumpiest child I know. Come to think of it, the hubster…?) Which is why I’m not much of a baker.
The sight of a cake ups one’s caloric intake by a 100. I know from experience now that 20 minutes (real time; hours in terms of counting seconds) of treadmill run/walking burns 127 calories. When you do the math it is quite obvious that giving up cake forever to earn freedom from treacherous gym hours is a highly desirable thing. Since I ran the risk of ignoring this extreme duplicity of cake whilst it lounged around on my counter, I froze half of that wretched (oh, yummy!) thing.
Today I will try to sell my disinterested kids on this frosted version of it.
Maybe they will buy it if I tell them it’s in advance for Memorial Day? They do quite love a celebration of some sort… If I brought it out in the evening after switching off the lights? Dim lighting sets the mood for indulgence, doesn’t it?