Sitting in Bars with Cake: Lessons and Recipes from One Year of Trying to Bake My Way to a Boyfriend
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“I just did,” he said.
Our attempts at further conversation fell flat, which I chalked up to teenage shortcomings in social situations that don’t pertain to selfies or smartphones or being mad about something. He left without saying good-bye, I suppose to go home and avoid his math homework or make electronic music—whatever it is the frustrated millennials do these days.
Be aware: your cake will attract misfit toys.
(Let’s Get) Baked Apple Granola Cake with Honey Frosting
For underage hippies and skateboard punks on the go.
For the cake:
3 large apples, peeled, cored, and cut into small cubes
1 cup (220 g) brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 cup (2 sticks/230 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
3 large eggs
⅓ cup (75 ml) honey
2 cups (250 g) granola
2½ cups (310 g) all-purpose flour
2½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup (120 ml) sour cream
For the frosting:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 cups (400 g) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Sliced apples, 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.
Toss apples with ½ cup (110 g) of the brown sugar, the cinnamon, and the nutmeg and set aside.
Beat butter and remaining ½ cup (110 g) of the brown sugar together until creamy, then add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Add honey, then granola.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, 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 apple mixture. Divide 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: Beat the butter and confectioners’ sugar together until smooth, then beat in the milk, honey, and cinnamon 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 sliced apples.
The Guy Who Invited Me Back to His Place
This guy was from that recently formed tribe of eccentric IT geniuses with heightened mannerisms. He’d pressed both of his hands into my face upon finishing his first piece of cake and exclaimed, “You have such deep dimples!” He wasn’t even drunk; he was just completely, certifiably bonkers.
He was eager to show me pictures of his seven hundred nieces and nephews on his iPhone before moving on to a series of a horse and donkey he’d just seen in the desert. “See? They’re friends!” he said, pointing to his cracked screen.
“Is it ironic that you’re an IT guy and your phone is cracked?” I asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “I prefer things that are broken.”
He shared some of his other philosophies with me, which involved a focus on being creative in temporary moments and not believing in the necessity of best friends. He even invited me back to his place—er, the backyard of his place—the first and only time this ever happened, which I for safety reasons declined.
Chocolate-Bananas Cake with Chocolate-Coconut Frosting
For the brilliantly insane or insanely brilliant, e.g., IT whizzes with contradictory belief systems.
For the cake:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (200 g) sugar
2 large eggs
2 (½ cup, 130 g) ripe bananas, mashed
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
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
1 cup (85 g) sweetened shredded coconut
For the frosting:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 tablespoon coconut oil
2 (½ cup,130 g) ripe bananas, mashed
3 cups (300 g) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
½ cup (40 g) unsweetened cocoa powder, sifted
1 cup (85 g) sweetened shredded coconut, plus more for garnish
Sliced banana, 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. Add the bananas and vanilla.
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. Stir in the coconut. 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, oil, bananas, and confectioners’ sugar together until smooth, then beat in the cocoa powder and coconut until fluffy. 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 sides. Garnish top of the cake with sliced banana and sprinkle shredded coconut around the bottom of the cake.
The Guy Who Licked Elizabeth’s Leg
This guy kept asking my friend Elizabeth to dance, and she kept politely declining. Not only was he not really her type (as in tall, dark, and passably normal), but also there was no music to dance to. He was the drunkest person we’d ever encountered at a bar. He might also have been the oldest.
We gave him a piece of cake to pacify him, which he ate at the end of our tiny table, swaying to an imaginary beat. He stopped suddenly to bend down, what we both assumed was a motion to pick up cake crumbs from the floor, but Elizabeth’s appalled face suggested he’d had other intentions for ducking under the table.
I nearly fell out of my chair shooing him away, pushing him back in the direction of the pool tables. “Thanks for coming by! Enjoy the cake!” I said, waving, as we watched him stumble toward the door.
“That dude just licked my ankle,” Elizabeth groaned. “A well-adjusted person would have screamed. I guess I’m just not a well-adjusted person.”
While she wins some award for enduring the grossest act committed by a cake-eater, we both learned not to give drunk middle-aged people we felt sorry for cake as a goodwill gesture.
There are limits to hospitality with strangers.
Puckering Lime Cake with Sour Frosting
For sour candy fans or people who have just suffered through a rather sour experience.
For the cake:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (200 g) sugar
1 cup (240 ml) frozen limeade concentrate, thawed
2 large egg whites
¼ teaspoon cream of tartar
2½ cups (310 g) all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking so
da
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup (120 ml) plain yogurt
For the frosting:
1 cup (240 ml) heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon lime juice
Strips of lime, 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 limeade.
Using an electric mixer with the whisk attachment, whip the egg whites and cream of tartar until soft peaks form and set aside.
In another bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the yogurt; stir until just combined. With a rubber spatula, gently fold in the egg whites until thoroughly incorporated. 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 lime juice 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 strips of lime.
MEMORABLE CAKE REJECTIONS
(1) “I just opened my beer.”
(2) “We just spent three hours at Souplantation.”
(3) “I’m more of a pie person.”
(4) “Can you get that off of our table?”
(5) “I’m allergic to pumpkin.”
(6) “I just came from a party with cake.”
(7) “It’s gym day.”
(8) “I’m an alcoholic.”
(9) “I’m not exactly a chocolate guy.”
(10) [Too intoxicated to formulate answer.]
The Guy Who Thought This Was an Art Project
He’d noticed me rotating around the bar for the past hour or so, doling out cake to strangers before making my way to his table. “I love you and what you’re about,” he said, gesturing toward me and my handful of plastic forks. It was the equivalent of a sophisticated high-five from one aesthete to another.
It took me a moment to realize that he was under the impression that my cake-related actions were solely in the name of art.
We were in the type of place where it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for a girl to be offering cake as a creative endeavor; most of the other patrons were ethereal hipsters in overalls or couples in head-to-toe vintage discussing the current crisis in Syria. Ke$ha had just walked out of a corner room.
Perhaps this guy imagined I would return home and put together a found object installation based on my experiences that night, or make a three-dimensional pie chart out of discarded food and videotape myself eating it the next day for breakfast. He wasn’t seeing this for the endgame that it was, which, while imaginative, was really just about finding someone to make out with on a regular basis.
The assumption was flattering; not only did I seem wildly creative, but also maybe I wasn’t looking as suspicious as I thought.
You may find yourself in an unintentional performance piece.
Sangria Party Cake with Triple Sec Frosting
For sculptors, dancers, interdisciplinary artists, or anyone who looks like they belong in a Free People catalog.
For the cake:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (200 g) sugar
3 large eggs
2 tablespoons lime juice
½ teaspoon orange flavoring
2½ cups (310 g) all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup (120 ml) red wine
For the frosting:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
3 cups (300 g) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
3 tablespoons triple sec
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. Add the lime juice and orange flavoring.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the wine; stir until just combined. 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: Beat the butter and confectioners’ sugar together until smooth, then beat in the triple sec 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 Directed Adult Films
We should have known something was off by the mustache, but then again, most guys are currently sporting this same sign of bad judgment if they’ve recently purchased a bike or want in on the L.A. improv scene.
The guy in question seemed normal enough by cake-eater standards, gaining some credibility upon mentioning he went to an East Coast school and asking a couple of courteous questions; he even had some nice things to say about the cake. I was just starting to warm up to his bad ’stache and girl jeans when what he did for a living came up.
“I’m an adult film director,” he said, nodding, and took another bite of cake. It was as though he had just told us he was a speech therapist or an accountant, or ran the pretzel kiosk at the mall, as though this particular line of work was so in keeping with contemporary societal norms that it required no further explanation or disclaimer.
“Do you enjoy your work?” one of my friends asked politely, not missing a beat.
I’m not sure how fulfilling this guy found his current career path to be, as I managed to black out during his answer and came to while ordering a virgin mojito.
Seedy Cherry Cocktail Cake with Brandy Frosting
For guys inclined toward mixed drinks or those whose work you find to be generally squalid.
For the cake:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1½ cups (300 g) sugar
3 large eggs
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups (300 g) cherries, halved and pitted
2½ cups (310 g) all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons (90 ml) brandy
¼ cup (60 ml) milk
For the frosting:
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 cups (400 g) confectioners’ sugar, sifted
2 to 3 tablespoons brandy
2 to 3 tablespoons milk
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. Add the vanilla, then the cherries.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, and salt.
Working in batches, stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture, alternating with the brandy and milk; stir until just combined. 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 layer to a serving platter.
To make the frosting: Beat the butter and confectioners’ sugar together until smooth, then beat in brandy, to taste, and add milk a little at a time, beating 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 Liked Guys
Maybe I should have been tipped off by the expensive product in this guy’s hair, since mine contained only sweat from the oven and a handful of forgotten bobby pins. Maybe I should have realized something was up by his catalog-quality outfit, since the sleeves of my cardigan were stained with frosting. Or maybe I should have gotten the hint when his circle of hyper-attractive guy friends appeared, who were all just as polished and put together as he was.
Before I knew it, they’d congregated around my cake in their unwrinkled shirts, asking polite questions and drawing me in with their mature conversational skills, voiced in dreamy baritones. It was like hanging out with civilian Ryan Gosling times four.
The guy I’d met first complimented my frosting and my eyes must have glazed over, betraying my blatant hetero attraction.
“Um, you should know we’re all gay,” he said gently, acknowledging his stunning friends. It was almost as if he expected me to take back the cake I’d just given to them.
“The cake is for everyone!” I said, waving a hand. “Of course I knew that.” I hadn’t.
They had really seemed straight—if only by the fact that they actually wanted to eat the cake.
Peachy Keen Cake with Minty Frosting
For the LGBT contingent, but can also be served up for a straight audience any day of the week.