Sitting in Bars with Cake: Lessons and Recipes from One Year of Trying to Bake My Way to a Boyfriend
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Angel Food Cake with Chocolate-Avocado Frosting
For gentlemen not especially inclined toward dessert, in addition to parties who certainly are.
For the cake:
1 cup (140 g) cake flour, sifted
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup (200 g) sugar
12 large egg whites
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
1 tablespoon honey
For the frosting:
1½ ripe avocados, pureed in a food processor
5 tablespoons (25 g) unsweetened cocoa powder, sifted
¾ cup (180 ml) honey
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).
Combine flour, salt, and ½ cup (100 g) of the sugar and set aside.
In a separate bowl, using an electric mixer with the whisk attachment, whip the egg whites and cream of tartar until foamy. With the mixer running, gradually add the remaining ½ cup (100 g) of sugar, 2 tablespoons at a time, and whip until the whites are glossy, bright white, and hold stiff peaks. Fold in the honey to avoid breaking the peaks.
Remove the bowl from the mixer and use a rubber spatula to gently and quickly fold in the flour mixture. Pour the batter into a tube pan and smooth the top.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean.
Remove from the oven and immediately turn the pan upside-down; if your pan doesn’t have feet, try balancing on cans or coffee mugs. An empty wine bottle will also do. Let the cake cool in the pan, upside-down, for at least 2 hours. Remove from the pan and transfer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: Beat the avocados, cocoa powder, honey, and vanilla together until smooth. Spread over the cooled cake, or serve on the side for dolloping onto slices.
CAN I BUY YOU A DRINK?
Best Booze and Cake Combinations
(1) Black Russian + Skinny Espresso Cake, No Whip (this page)
(2) White Russian + Peanut Brittle Cake with Old-fashioned Frosting (this page)
(3) Moscow Mule + Puckering Lime Cake with Sour Frosting (this page)
(4) Champagne + Dreamsicle Cake with Orange Frosting (this page)
(5) Riesling + Sage Cake with Ricotta Frosting (this page)
(6) Sangria + Melonhead Cake with Fizzy Frosting (this page)
(7) Madeira + Bitter Chocolate Dumped Cake with Cheap-Wine Frosting (this page)
(8) Stout + Bacon Sponge Cake with Potato Chip Frosting (this page)
(9) Pilsner + Pretzel Roulette Cake with Pistachio Filling (this page)
(10) Frambozen + Hidden Layer Chocolate-Raspberry Torte (this page)
Cakes for Jarring Impressions, Embarrassing Run-Ins, and Conversations with a Kick
For every mortifying moment and misread intention I racked up during my year of boy baiting, I’ve created a cake to replicate that harrowing experience that you can enjoy right here. If you’re looking to serve some dessert with a brackish edge, you can surprise guests with any of the following recipes that play up the salty and the sweet. Just comfort yourself with another forkful when you get to any of the more cringeworthy, pull-the-covers-over-your-head kind of exchanges I’m forcing you to relive with me. The dating world can sting, y’all.
The Guy Who Asked If I Was a Grandmother
He and his friends worked on cars for a living, and they were total badasses. They’d come to the bar expressly to drink, not unlike hunters and pirates and men sporting tool belts. This guy had managed to pull off a vest and fedora with his earrings and tattoos, and he wanted to know who exactly had made my cake and why it happened to be in my possession before agreeing to eat any. He insisted I cut him just a tiny piece before he changed his mind and asked for a second, bigger serving.
Soon we were having such a good time together that I let him hold on to my phone while I served more cake, patting myself on the back for infiltrating the cool-kid group by sheer sugary charm. This allowed my new friend ample opportunity to scroll through my current collection of phone photos, which revealed cake picture after cake picture, occasionally interrupted by a guy-eating-cake picture, or a wholesome flower or noteworthy cloud.
“These are all pictures of cake,” he said. “Are you a grandmother?”
It only takes one cute guy scrolling through your phone to totally kill your facade as a cool person.
Peanut Brittle Cake with Old-fashioned Frosting
For young and old alike, especially young people with old people interests, e.g., puzzles, bridge, and my personal favorite, the domino train game.
For the cake:
1 cup (220 g) brown sugar
¼ cup (60 ml) vegetable oil
4 large eggs
½ cup (120 ml) peanut butter
2 cups (10 ounces/280 g) crushed peanut brittle
2½ cups (310 g) all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup (120 ml) half-and-half
For the frosting:
1⅓ cups (315 ml) heavy whipping cream
2 teaspoons brandy
Pinch of salt
Peanuts, for garnish
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 brown sugar and oil together, then add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Add the peanut butter and peanut brittle.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the peanut butter mixture, alternating with the half-and-half; stir until just combined. Divide the batter between the prepared pans.
Bake for 35 to 40 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: In a chilled bowl, using a chilled whisk or electric mixer with the whisk attachment, whip the cream, brandy, and salt until stiff peaks form. 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 peanuts in the center of the cake.
The Guy Who Liked to Talk About Himself
This guy was handsome enough to play Eric in The Little Mermaid on Ice. He had just enough remnants of a Southern accent to keep me hanging on every hint of his drawl, and the fact that he wanted a second piece of cake made me want to go home and meet his parents, even if he hadn’t bothered to learn my name at any point between our hellos, cake consumption, and closing time.
I kept filling any short silence with another meaningful series of questions about his childhood, his too-recent college experience, and his grand aspirations in the music scene. I let him go on and on about the trials and tribulations of putting together a band. (God, it was so hard to coordinate Skypes with, like, so many people.) He described the album he’d just finished with words like “brutal” and “awesome.”
It was only when he started using the word chick interchangeably with girl that I finally snapped out of it. I’d gotten carried away by his attractive book cover of a face before thinking to open it up and read the first sentence, which upon closer inspection revealed it to be the autobiography of a celebrity mom who overcame adversity by letting herself eat cookies, or something comparably self-focused and of very little interest to me.
Tactfully write off those who missed the boat on social cues.
Bacon Sponge Cake with Potato Chip Frosting
For people who share their own accomplishments without inquiring about any of yours.
For the cake:
10 large eggs
1½ cups (300 g) sugar
3 cups (420 g) cake flour, sifted
½ cup (1 stick/115 g)
unsalted butter, softened
1 cup (75 g) crumbled cooked bacon
½ cup (15 g) crumbled potato chips
For the frosting:
2 cups (480 ml) sour cream
½ cup (30 g) finely ground potato chips, plus more 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.
With an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the eggs and sugar together until tripled in volume, about 5 minutes. Gently fold in the flour until just incorporated, then the butter in small increments. Mix in the bacon and potato chips. Divide the batter between the prepared pans.
Bake for 20 to 25 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: Whisk the sour cream with the potato chips. 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 potato chips on top of the cake.
The Guy Who Claimed to Be Full
He looked just like the boyfriend I grew up thinking I’d have once I got to high school, thanks to unrealistic expectations built up for me by nineties sitcoms, where everyone seemed to have a handsome, two-dimensional study partner who also asked them to prom. This guy was nothing extraordinary—he just had a nice smile and normal haircut that brought to mind that very fulfilling dating life I’d predicted for my future self as a fifth grader that still had yet to come to fruition.
I walked over and stood next to him at the bar, trying not to look absolutely calculating. I asked what he was ordering before casually segueing into an offer of leftover cake back at my table.
“That’s really nice,” he said. “But I’m so full. I just came from dinner.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “You could even take some home with you.”
“No—thanks, though,” he said. “I appreciate it,” he added, and turned back to face the bar. I made myself stand still on the off chance he wanted to keep our meaningful conversation going. But after no further acknowledgment on his part, I retreated to my table, feeling slighted and ten years old again.
“He’s not really full,” my friend said when I relayed what had happened. “He must have a girlfriend.”
We realized that guys could eat cake even if they’d just polished off an entire bar mitzvah buffet; they powered through fullness. Turning down cake under the pretense of being too stuffed was really the nicest way possible of saying “closed for business.”
Chocolate Prune Cake with Salty Frosting
For guys you have no intention of dating and guys who have no intention of dating you.
For the cake:
1 cup (2 sticks/230 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (220 g) brown sugar
3 large eggs
1 cup (240 ml) prune baby food (about five 2½-ounce/71-g containers)
2½ cups (310 g) all-purpose flour
¾ cup (60 g) unsweetened cocoa powder, sifted
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup (240 ml) sour cream
For the frosting:
1½ cups (360 ml) heavy whipping cream
¼ teaspoon sea salt
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 prune baby food.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, cocoa powder, 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. Divide the batter between the prepared pans.
Bake for 30 to 35 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: In a chilled bowl, using a chilled whisk or electric mixer with the whisk attachment, whip the cream and salt until stiff peaks form. 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 Got Handsy
Full disclaimer: This was my first and only time peddling cake at a wedding, as I’d actually been asked to bring a dessert.
This guy was part of the wedding party, which made him seem deceptively adorable. We’d been seated near each other at dinner and reconnected in the dessert line several hours later, what must have been several drinks later for him. I offered to cut him a piece of my cake, not registering the extent of his drunkenness until he started to cram frosting into his mouth with the hand-eye coordination of a high chair–constricted infant. I watched him, fascinated, this odd combination of sloppiness and formal wear as he sucked down a few more messy bites. He reached for me, and the beginnings of a hug turned into some serious inappropriateness as he announced, “It’s just salt in the salt shaker.”
“What does that even mean?” I asked, and extricated myself to seek out other, more-composed cake eaters. This guy proceeded to get so drunk that he passed out on the couch outside the banquet hall, where wedding guests stopped to pose for pictures with him on their way out the door. We were all left guessing what exactly he’d meant by his enigmatic salt shaker comment on our drive back home. Was I the salt? Was he the salt?
No, we decided. He was just abominably trashed.
Don’t trust the groomsman; he’s out to do every bad thing the groom just signed away.
Bear Claw Cake with Drippy Caramel Frosting
For clumsy dinner guests who you know will have too much to drink.
For the cake:
1 cup (2 sticks/230 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (200 g) sugar
3 large eggs
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
½ cup (170 g) almond meal or pulverized almonds
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup (120 ml) sour cream
1½ cups (135 g) sliced almonds
For the frosting:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (220 g) brown sugar
¼ cup (60 ml) milk, plus more if needed
2 cups (200 g) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Butter and flour a 12-cup (2.8-L) Bundt pan, 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, almond meal or almonds, baking powder, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the sour cream; add the sliced almonds and stir until just combined. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top.
Bake for 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. Let cool for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides with a knife and invert onto a wire rack to cool completely. Transfer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: Melt the butter and brown sugar in a medium saucepan over low heat, stirring to combine. Add the milk. Increase the heat to medium and bring to a boil; boil for 1 minute, then remove from the heat and add the confectioners’ sugar. You may need to add 1 to 2 tablespoons more milk to make the frosting extra smooth. Immediately pour the h
ot frosting over the cooled cake.
LURING BOYS WITH SUGAR
The Do’s and Don’ts of Sitting in Bars with Cake
(1) Don’t bake cakes with polarizing ingredients.
(2) Don’t wear dry-clean only.
(3) Don’t bring along friends with alcohol problems.
(4) Don’t sit with your back to the door.
(5) Don’t leave the cake covered up.
(6) Don’t assume the bar just happens to have a cake knife.
(7) Don’t cut your pieces too small (or too big!).
(8) Don’t leave without enjoying a piece yourself.
(9) Don’t forget to give the bouncer a piece on your way out.
(10) Don’t go to the same bar twice, lest you give up the whole charade!
The Guy Who Inhaled The Cake
This guy’s right arm was in a sling. He’d been sitting alone watching the football game on TV before he slid over to join me and my friend.
“I only end up here if my night’s gone really horribly wrong,” he said.
“What happened?” we asked.
He wouldn’t say. He was too busy eyeing our cake.
I asked if he wanted a piece, and he gladly took some, wielding the fork in his opposite, unhindered hand. He had nearly finished scarfing down the entire slice before he stopped to ask me what kind of cake it was that he was eating.
It was now clear that putting a great deal of thought into the cake presentation had been unnecessary; the flavors, the decorations, and any ingredients to give the cake a more alluring kind of appeal had gone partially if not completely unnoticed by male cake-eaters. They just heard “cake,” and they were in.