Caramelizing Concerns

It's 2 a.m. and I'm going to bake a cake. And I'm not taking the easy route, either. No boxes, no cans of frosting. I'm baking this puppy from scratch, and it involves caramelizing pears and everything.

I had a challenging day, and I thought to come home and write, because I've been away from this so long. But, in addition to writing, I discovered I need to DO something, too. The motivation isn't there to clean (which is what I really should be doing -- 2nd wave of family coming in two days) and I've been meaning to try this baking thing since Monday when I gathered all the ingredients.

Most of the gathering took place at the grocery store, however I needed a small amount of brandy or bourbon for this recipe. I didn't want to buy a whole bottle because I'm not allowed to have bourbon ever again. Luckily, I live a half a block away from my favorite bar. Admittedly, I felt a little bit strange walking down the street to ask for a couple spoonfuls of booze, but I reasoned that it's no different than asking a neighbor for a cup of sugar (something else I've never done before). It all worked out, and any thoughts that my walk home carrying of those condiment cups of Jim Beam was even stranger that my walk to the bar were erased by my excitement over my certainty I was about to embark on a path toward baking genius.

I didn't get to it for a couple days, but the determination is overwhelming now.

First off, I should mention what we're making. I recently read Molly Wizenberg's "A Homemade Life" and loved it. In fact, it's part of what got me to thinking about doing this blog. She's writes the blog Orangette, and this recipe was in her book. I also found it on her site, so here's the link:

http://orangette.blogspot.com/2005/10/how-i-hit-hard-ball-stage.html

Here I go, for real.

Step 1: Do dishes. OK, so I did have to do some cleaning. It's like multi-tasking ... sort of.

Step 2: Assemble ingredients.

Step 3: Bake.

Step 4: Make caramel pear sauce stuff.

Seems simple enough, and so far, so good. I have to say I was incredibly concerned because when I put the batter in the cake pan, it was sticky and lumpy and didn't look great.

I was a little apprehensive of the batter, also, because it smelled kind of funny. But it tasted good, so I licked the bowl clean.

Several hours later ...

A lot of this was nerve-wracking. Aside from the lumpy sticky batter, I was obsessively worried while making the caramel sauce. Don't let anyone tell you a watched skillet doesn't caramelize. It does. It just seems like it won't.

As the cake cooled, I decided since I didn't have to show anyone, I could slice a bit of the edge off and give it a try. I was delighted! It was really nice and crisp. Sweet and tangy with the lemon zest, ginger and molasses really making it distinctive.

All of this was surprisingly easier than I ever would have thought it would be. It looked like it was going to turn out!

OK, I got too excited as the time to eat the cake neared. I decided I had to share. At exactly that same moment, my boyfriend called and said he would eat some cake if I brought it over. So, I put the cake in bowls, drove it over to his house and tried to protect it from the drizzling rain as I searched my keychain for his key. Unfortunately, my innate inability to find keys isn't just limited to when I've set them down and can't remember where. Apparently, it extends to when they're in my hand, I'm balancing two bowls of cake on my arm and it's dark and raining.

It's now 5:31 a.m. The light's starting to break outside, just the slightest bit and the dishes are done. The birds are chirping and I have this deep satisfaction that I cooked something and it turned out right. It was really lovely. The flavors complemented each other perfectly. I enjoyed it, and Matt said he did too. I'm quite sure he would say so no matter what, but I think he really did think it was good.

The best part is, I forgot all about the challenges that were weighing me down when I got home from work, and I believe in a very few moments, I'll be able to lay down and not worry about anything except how much cake I get to eat for breakfast.