If you've been following this blog, you'll have figured out that Gentleman Caller has come and gone. But I will update you because I wrote the following, the morning of his arrival. By the time I took a photo to match the topic, it was time to dash to the airport. Didn't get the photo or the blog loaded up. Here it is now.
This is it.
Gentleman Caller arrives in a few hours.
It's 8 a.m. I've decided to greet him with a little aromatherapy. So I am making Emeril's Apple Coffee Cake with Crumble Topping and Brown Sugar Glaze. Just as I'm stirring the apples into the batter, the phone rings. It's from one of my clients for whom I've just finished a major project. Or I thought I'd finished. Turns out he needs the files again. And he needs them NOW. Now. Now. NOW.
What the font? Gentleman Caller arrives in about 5 hours. I need to primp and fuss and bake. Who has time for work? There's baking to be done.
I decide to pop the cake into the oven and then hop onto my computer to assuage the client by sending him a massive file folder that should keep him busy the rest of the day. Phew. Only took 15 minutes. I saunter to the oven and take a peek at the cake.
Drat! I've pulled a Julia.
In my haste to get the cake baking before turning to my freelance work, I forgot to add the crumb topping. I yank the half-baked cake out of the oven and throw together brown sugar, flour, and butter—which I've hastily softened in the microwave. I fling the crumbles over the hot cake and shove it all back in the oven.
At this point, I've decided to call upon Capt. Morgan. I know, it's only 8ish in the morning. But still. The baked apple cake gets a brown sugar glaze on top, so—says I—why not replace the water with spiced rum? Yum. Rum.
(I also tinkered with the cake batter too by cutting out 1/2 cup of the brown sugar and adding 1/2 teaspoon grated fresh ginger because I'm in love with ginger these days.)
The Apple Cake is out of the oven. It's drizzled with the giddy glaze.
The house smells great.
I must stop channeling Julia Child. But. Lah-de-dah. It looks good and if it doesn't work I'll add a nice soft plop of freshly whipped cream.
You tell this with such elan that I can easily see you with a yo-ho-ho in your head and a bottle of rum in your hand.
ReplyDeleteDon't we all go through this, making something in theory we know will be heavenly, only to have it sail away in a different direction? I admire you for giving it a swig and then a heave-ho!
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