The Thanksgiving Cake Post

I now present the Triple-Layer Lemon Thanksgiving Cake that sucked three hours from my life (and it wasn't even a vampire).



Three hours. I kid you not. I began at 10pm (thanks to the silly Biggest Loser Where are they now? episode) and wrapped things up at 1am. I have no excuse for my lack of speed aside from my meticulous and perfectionist nature.

(not super pretty, is it?)

Ah, you say, But Amanda isn't the least bit concerned with precision. She could care less about baking times and exact measurements and following recipes.

And to that, I say, Did this Amanda you speak so highly of ever bake a cake?

Why yes, you say, Once or twice maybe. I can't remember; it wasn't very good.

And there, my friends, is the secret ingredient. If Amanda wants her cakes and cookies and pies to be edible, she has to pay VERY CLOSE ATTENTION. No giving in to the A.D.D. that Tad is now agreeing may plague her.

Back to the cake . . .


The majority of the three hours was spent measuring. I'm an obsessive measurer. I've mistaken Baking soda for baking powder before. I know what it's like to add a cup extra of flour. I don't want to make these mistakes ever ever ever again.

The next chunk of the three hours was spent trying to pry two of the cakes from their pans. (No one should EVER be flippant when they tell you to grease and flour a pan. No. They should hold your face between their hands, their eyes as wide as a person who's just seen the devil, and speak the words slowly and intentionally, throwing in words like "tons" and "lots" and "a glob as big as your head" when describing the amount of crisco to use).

But thankfully, despite my A.D.D., I am a very patient person. (please disregard how this phrase makes me sound like I'm mentally insane).



And the last chunk of the three hours was spend frosting the thing so precisely that I swear I only had like ten crumbs the entire time.

Pretty proud of that fact.