The Guy Who Was in a Frat
This guy looked fresh out of a fraternity, his spiked hair and bronzy tan betraying a very recent college education’s worth of poor decision making. He could have been the national spokesperson for pub crawling, or perhaps an all-inclusive spring break cruise. “You girls are beautiful, but THAT CAKE!” he said, fake falling over. “Nice!!”
As soon as I offered to cut him a piece, Frat Bro’s attention quickly turned to my exceptionally pretty best friend. He offered to buy her a drink, but she said no thanks, she didn’t drink, and undeterred, he stuck around, eating the cake and asking her a series of questions that revealed a level of perception far exceeding my understanding of frat boy wherewithal. What was the most rewarding part of her job? What did the future of college admissions look like? Did she also research California fault lines?
Thinking it was only right to give him a heads-up, my friend tactfully hinted that she was much older than he was—as in, more than a decade older than he was.
“Well,” he said with a shrug, “you’re still pretty bangin’,” and returned to his table of similarly dressed Malibu Kens. I wondered if I’d been underestimating the capacity for good in all of them.
Sweet Greek Walnut Cake with Yogurt Frosting
For undergrads, actual Greeks, and those under the impression that they’re still entitled to a spring break.
For the cake:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (220 g) brown sugar
3 large eggs
¾ cup (180 ml) orange juice
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon honey
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup (120 ml) sour cream
1 cup (125 g) chopped walnuts
For the frosting:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 cups (400 g) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
¼ cup (60 ml) plain Greek yogurt
1 tablespoon orange juice
Chopped walnuts, for garnish
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter two 9-inch (23-cm) round cake pans, line the bottoms with rounds of parchment paper, and dust the pans with flour, tapping out the excess.
Beat the butter and brown sugar together until creamy, then add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Add the orange juice, lemon juice, honey, and vanilla.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the sour cream; stir until just combined. Stir in the walnuts. Divide the batter between the prepared pans.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of a cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides with a knife and invert onto wire racks to cool completely. Peel off the parchment and transfer one cake layer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: Beat the butter and confectioners’ sugar together until smooth, then beat in the yogurt and orange juice. Mix until fluffy and smooth. Spread some of the frosting over the bottom cake layer, top with the second cake layer, and spread the remaining frosting over the top. Garnish with the walnuts around the top border.
The Guy Who Just Got Ditched
This guy wasn’t really in the mood for cake. He’d just come from a date that had ended rather abruptly when the girl had a panic attack in the middle of dinner and decided she’d better go home. Catching him in the aftermath was like getting to witness something akin to the beginning of a therapy session, when his boy brain was still processing what had happened and the topic was up for discussion among those of us at the bar.
We tried to talk things out. Was the girl’s panic attack real? If it was, was it because she liked him, or was it because she didn’t like him? Was she having a bad time and performed her way right out of the restaurant? Maybe she was an aspiring thespian—we would never know.
While he was clearly mystified, this guy was also concerned for the girl, revealing a surprising amount of feeling when he could have just as easily written her off as high maintenance. I told him I hoped he would go out with her again—maybe their second date would be better.
“Yeah, I think maybe I will,” he said, and I believed him. Then I tried to peer pressure him into eating some cake, convinced it might actually cheer him up.
Be generous with advice to vulnerable boy strangers.
Chocolate Marshmallow Cake with Southern Comfort Frosting
For those you can force-feed into feeling better.
For the cake:
1 cup (2 sticks/230 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1½ cups (300 g) sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
½ cup (40 g) unsweetened cocoa powder, sifted
¾ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup (240 ml) milk
2 cups (100 g) mini marshmallows
For the frosting:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
3 cups (300 g) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
2 to 3 tablespoons milk
1 to 2 tablespoons Southern Comfort
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Butter two 9-inch (23-cm) round cake pans, line the bottoms with rounds of parchment paper, and dust the pans with flour, tapping out the excess.
Beat the butter and sugar together until creamy, then add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Add the vanilla.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the milk; stir until just combined. Stir in the marshmallows. Divide the batter between the prepared pans.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of a cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides with a knife and invert onto wire racks to cool completely. Peel off the parchment and transfer one cake layer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: Beat the butter and confectioners’ sugar together until smooth, then beat in 2 tablespoons of the milk and 1 tablespoon of the Southern Comfort. Taste and add more Southern Comfort if you’d like, and more milk if the frosting is too thick. Beat until fluffy and smooth. Spread some of the frosting over the bottom cake layer, top with the second cake layer, and spread the remaining frosting over the top.
The Guy Who Told Me He’d Send Me His Recipe
This guy was a real bulldozer of a person, destined for things like heavy lifting and rugby and bodyguarding Britney Spears. When he saw I was carrying a cake into the bar, he pulled out his chair like a real stand-up guy and offered me his table, since there was nowhere else to sit.
We got to talking about cake: what the best kinds were, what kinds I’d baked up recently, and (wait for it) what kinds of cake he liked to make. He worked in construction and, yep, he liked to bake.
“You should make a cheesecake,” he said, taking a thoughtful bite from the tiny plastic fork in his enormous hand. “I’ll send you my recipe.” He started to describe the texture I should be going for—crumbly crust on the bottom, rich filling, maybe some fruit for the very top layer (drool)—but we got separated at some point, and I never did catch him to write it all down.
White Chocolate Gravel Cheesecake
For gentle giants with excellent manners and anyone harboring slightly to fully realized culinary inclinations.
For the crust:
2 cups (about 22 cookies, 255 g) chocolate sandwich cookies, ground in a food
processor, plus 6 more cookies, separated with cream removed, for garnish
¼ cup (55 g) butter, melted
For the filling:
16 ounces (2 blocks/455 g) cream cheese, at room temperature
1 cup (240 ml) sour cream, at room temperature
3 large eggs, at room temperature
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup (6 ounces/170 g) white chocolate chips, melted and kept warm
To make the crust: Combine the cookies and butter in a bowl. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
Preheat the oven to 325°F (165°C). Press the cookie mixture into the bottom and up the sides of a 9½-inch (24-cm) pie plate.
To make the filling: Beat the cream cheese, sour cream, eggs, salt, and white chocolate together until the mixture is smooth. Pour into the crust.
Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, until the center is no longer jiggly.
While still warm, place the chocolate cookie wafers around the edge to look like manhole covers. Let cool completely, then refrigerate for at least 2 hours before cutting and serving.
THE ESSENTIAL PLAYLIST
For Baking, Bar-Hopping, and the Subsequent Sugar Coma
(1) “Pumpkin Soup”—Kate Nash (for the baking part)
(2) “Country Pie”—Bob Dylan (for cleaning up while your cake bakes)
(3) “A Sunday Kind of Love”—Etta James (for drinking wine while you wait for your cake because it’s still not done baking)
(4) “One Fine Day”—The Chiffons (for frosting the cake)
(5) “If You Didn’t See Me (Then You Weren’t on the Dancefloor)”—Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. (for getting ready)
(6) “Get Lucky”—Daft Punk (for driving to the bar)
(7) “Faded”—soulDecision (for liquid courage)
(8) “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)”—Beyoncé (for approaching guys with cake)
(9) “Don’t Leave Me This Way”—Thelma Houston (for waking yourself up because it’s midnight and you’re getting tired)
(10) “Nothing Compares 2 U”—Sinead O’Connor (for the drive home)
Bonus Track: “One Less Lonely Girl”—Justin Bieber (for eating more cake at home before you fall asleep without brushing your teeth or taking out your contacts)
The Guy Who Proposed
This guy got down on one knee before I really knew what was happening. He had taken one bite of my cake and lowered himself to the floor, proclaiming: “I know we don’t know each other very well, but my mom taught me the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and, well, this is the best thing I’ve eaten in two decades.”
Considering he was a Christian musician, it must have been too dark in the bar for him to fully register the whole of my eastern European Jewish features.
The photo my friends took at this moment is probably not all that different from one capturing a real proposal. It shows me beaming, blushing, surprised, and my would-be fiancé kneeling, still shoveling in the engagement-worthy cake. Our respective friend groups surround us, huge smiles on their faces, clapping their hands in genuine excitement. While I was fully aware this was all for show, I couldn’t help but find the whole display rather enthralling—the declaration of such extreme intentions is really the best compliment you could give to a girl based solely on her baking skills, especially one looking to bait a boyfriend.
You might look just as tasty as the cake you’re offering up.
Blushing Berry Cake with Champagne Frosting
For effusive speech-makers at small-scale parties, large-scale celebrations, and major life events.
For the cake:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
½ cup (100 g) sugar
3 large eggs
2½ cups (310 g) all-purpose flour
1 (6-ounce/170-g) envelope strawberry Jell-O mix
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ cup (120 ml) milk
1 cup (185 g) diced strawberries and/or whole raspberries
For the frosting:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
3 cups (300 g) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
3 tablespoons champagne
Sliced strawberries, for garnish
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter two 9-inch (23-cm) round cake pans, line the bottoms with rounds of parchment paper, and dust the pans with flour, tapping out the excess.
Beat the butter and sugar together until creamy, then add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, Jell-O mix, and baking powder.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the milk; stir until just combined. Stir in the berries. Divide the batter between the prepared pans.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of a cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides with a knife and invert onto wire racks to cool completely. Peel off the parchment and transfer one cake layer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: Beat the butter and confectioners’ sugar together, then add the champagne and beat until fluffy and smooth. Spread some of the frosting over the bottom cake layer, top with the second cake layer, and spread the remaining frosting over the top. Garnish with the strawberries on top of the cake.
The Guy Who Danced Like No One Was Watching
These guys were dancing by themselves on an otherwise deserted dance floor—that is to say, they were dancing only and forcefully with each other. The DJ had been playing various hits from the nineties, and these boys were throwing themselves into the music with a resounding level of commitment, a trait fairly hard to come by in would-be boyfriend material.
“Would you guys like some cake?” I yelled over the speakers.
“ABSOLUTELY, WE WOULD LIKE SOME CAKE!” one of them yelled back, and they danced their way over to my picnic table.
To say they were enthusiastic about the cake would be a gross understatement. Their shared adrenaline high from dancing and drinking gave way to loud, impassioned feedback in the form of compliments such as, “This tastes like a gingerbread man crawled into my mouth,” and “Jam, cake, frosting—that’s my holy trinity.”
When I told them I’d made the cake myself, the high-school math teacher of the group got real quiet.
“You don’t buy dreams,” he told me, shaking his head, “you make them.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel compelled to marry him right then and there with Semisonic blasting in the background.
Dreamsicle Cake with Orange Frosting
For laid-back but confident cake eaters, and guys who wouldn’t mind a little Push-Pop stain on their mouths.
For the cake:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (200 g) sugar
3 large eggs
½ cup (120 ml) coconut oil, melted
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
2½ cups (310 g) all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 cup (240 ml) orange juice
1 cup (85 g) sweetened shredded coconut
For the frosting:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 cups (400 g) confectioners’ sugar
2 tablespoons coconut oil, melted
1 teaspoon orange flavoring
1½ tablespoons orange juice
Sweetened shredded coconut, for garnish
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter two 9-inch (23-cm) round cake pans, line the bottoms with rounds of parchment paper, and dust the pans with flour, tapping out the excess.
Beat the butter and sugar together until creamy, then add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Beat in the oil and vanilla.
In a separate b
owl, combine the flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the orange juice; stir until thoroughly combined. Stir in the coconut. Divide the batter between the prepared pans.
Bake for 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of a cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides with a knife and invert onto wire racks to cool completely. Peel off the parchment and transfer one cake layer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: Beat the butter with the confectioners’ sugar, then add the oil, orange flavoring, and orange juice. Beat until fluffy and smooth. Spread some of the frosting over the bottom cake layer, top with the second cake layer, and spread the remaining frosting over the top, and frost the sides. Garnish with the shredded coconut on top of the cake.
The Guy Who Didn’t Like Sweets
I met this guy while doling out the worst cake I have ever made. To say it tasted like cough medicine would be more than generous.
We had ended up sitting next to each other at the bar, his friends sharing a table with my friends while everyone drank and ate my terrible cake. I hoped they were all too inebriated to notice it was dry as sand. This guy kept holding his piece of cake without eating any, I assumed because he was enjoying our conversation too much to break away for a fork (and not so much because he sensed the cake was inedible). He seemed so familiar that I worried I had offered him cake before, maybe at another bar, but then attributed this familiarity to our matching levels of questionably extreme friendliness.
I got a message from him a few hours after I left the bar claiming that he was still enjoying my “delicious cake,” and another message the next week asking me out for drinks. It was only on the fourth or fifth date that he admitted he wasn’t much of a dessert person, and he’d really only taken the cake to talk to me.
Sitting in Bars with Cake: Lessons and Recipes from One Year of Trying to Bake My Way to a Boyfriend Page 2