Pull up a chair and look me in the eye:
Go to RedEnvelope.com and buy as many 10″ Three Layer Cakes as you possibly can. Then, hide some. Then, put one out for your loved ones, just to show how awesomely fabulous you are and how much you love your family. THEN, walk around the neighborhood and offer to sell them for three times the price. Bring samples. You’ll make a bloody fortune.
Seriously, it is the BEST chocolate cake I have ever tasted, and that’s saying something.
We had chocolate cake at our wedding. It was lovely, but it wasn’t this.
We just got back from an all-inclusive honeymoon at a four-star resort with all manner of unlimited, yummy desserts, and I can’t even recall now what they were.
Every year since our eldest was born in 1998, we’ve gotten a chocolate cake from the local (and quite famous) bakery for every birthday for every family member, ever. It’s part of the Family Charter. It didn’t approach this.
It’s one thing to have great, thick frosting.
It’s one thing to have incredibly moist layers.
It’s one thing to have mouthwatering ganache layers of frosting in between.
It’s unheard of to have all three. It’s the Unified Theory of Chocolate Cake.
You have no idea how much I wish they were paying me to say this* but it WAS AMAZINGLY AWESOMELY DELICIOUS and I can’t physically defend it 24/7 and I am actually nervous right now because it is downstairs on the counter and at least half the people in the house know it’s there and I’m all the way upstairs and down the hall.
Maybe they have a Cake of the Month deal, and I can open a P.O. Box. No, they won’t deliver to boxes, as well they shouldn’t, because they are delivered packed in dry ice and can sit for three days with absolutely no drop in quality. I know this because I was in Mexico on my honeymoon when my cake arrived, and it sat in my ex’s kitchen from Friday to Monday before I got my mitts on it. In gratitude I cut him a 1/4 share, but now think I was hasty.
In fact, my eldest hasn’t come to stay with me since I got back because of his baseball practice schedule, so he’s been eating off his dad’s share, and when I saw him shovel a piece that filled his hand into his mouth, I was aghast. “No! Small bites! Small bites! You have to savor it!”
“Mom, I haff a mouf full ub cake, I’m still tasting thith.”
“Not the way it was meant to be tasted!” And with that I ran to my car, holding a hankie to my eyes.