I’m hot. I’m cold. My fingernails are blue. My head hurts. I’m nauseated. And, if you’re Nick, nauseous. I have burst capillaries all over my face, and my bangs are unkempt. Probably, I am dying. David left a message this afternoon requesting a cake recipe, so hopefully this one will suffice – Devil’s Food Cake, simple/awesome, and, let me tell you, quite a thing to muster in this perilous state. So now I’m thinking of cake – which I will make again when I am not teetering on the brink of my own demise. Next week, I think, or for my birthday, which is Sunday. It would be tragic if I didn’t survive until then. For me. It would be tragic for me.
Nick crossed his fingers when I made him promise that he wouldn’t remarry after I’m gone.
Devil’s Food Cake
- 2 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
- 1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
- 1/2 tsp. baking soda
- 1/2 tsp. salt
- 3/4 cup butter, at room temperature
- 2 cups firmly packed dark brown sugar
- 2 tsp. vanilla
- 4 eggs, at room temperature
- 1 1/2 cups buttermilk, at room temperature (if you don’t have buttermilk, sour milk is fine – one teaspoon lemon juice or vinegar for every cup of fresh milk)
Preheat an oven to 350°F.
Lightly butter the bottoms of two 9-inch round cake pans and line with parchment paper. Lightly butter the paper and the sides of the pans and dust with flour.
In a large bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda and salt; set aside.
In another large bowl, beat the butter until smooth. Add the brown sugar and continue beating until fluffy. Add the vanilla and the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat together with the flour, and add the buttermilk/sour milk slowly.
Divide the batter between the prepared pans and spread it out evenly. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center of a cake comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Transfer the pans to a wire rack and let cool for 15 minutes. Let the cake layers cool completely if you’re going to frost this. Of course you are. You can find a recipe for that here.
So, right. If I die, please remember me fondly when eating my cake. If I do not die, I’ll be in an eating mood again soon, at which point you are more than welcome to invite me over for cake and cocktails. I’m going to lie on the bathroom floor now.
Update: I’m still probably dying. But I’ve made it this far, so I’ll probably outwit death yet. And then, with one successful outwitting behind me, I’ll be unstoppable. Oh, I was going to tell you about Koreans and their fantastic meat. If you’re lucky, I’ll survive the day to report back tomorrow.
3 thoughts on “I’m probably dying. Let them eat cake.”
I basically was gonna leave reading this until tomorrow, but the double-barreled title got my attention. And I thought, why not eat cake at funerals? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that. Leave it to Emily to be different. Happy early birthday, if you make it!
I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but I am going to be the surprise in my funeral pinata! And if a little of me gets on the cake, it’ll be like my last wish is for everyone to eat me!
hehe the last time we had a pinata, no one beat it or perhaps it was simply an unbreakable penis imbued with both mine and Graham’s souls. I like funerals with cake though. However, I’ll be very sad if you die before I can eat some of your devil’s food cake.