This was our anniversary cake. No, I did not bake it. We got it at National Bakery with a groupon. The left side is SH's, the right side is mine. I didn't think the cake part was that good, but the mousse filling was excellent.
In California, the day after my birthday, which I celebrated with my friend Kim by eating Mexican food, going consignment shopping, and getting our traditional wedding/birthday/I'm in San Francisco pedicure* and then with supper with her husband, my friend Luke. A good day.
But I needed cake. SH's stepdaughter, Vanessa, and I share a birthday, so on Day #2 of my Birthday Week, I went to the bakery SH has been raving about for years, the Prolific Overn, to get cake to share with Vanessa.
You already heard about the Lee's sandwiches getting adventure. The cake was part of that same deal. And let me say this about California: the roads are laid out on a grid, which is nice, but man is it a pain in the neck to drive there if you don't know exactly where you are going and have to turn around and around. It takes forever to get anywhere. Longest lights in the world.
Back to the cake. I went to the Prolific Oven and tried to call SH to find out what flavors he wanted - I was getting a variety of slices - but he was in a meeting and COULDN'T TALK RIGHT NOW! s0 I had to make all the decisions myself, which was fine because it was cake for my birthday. Mine. I shouldn't have to worry about what he wants.
I got a slice of kahlua something, a slice of double chocolate, a slice of chocolate mocha, and a Grand Marnier truffle, which is a round chunk of dense chocolate cake soaked with Grand Marnier and then covered with dark chocolate frosting.
Vanessa, her mother in law, and I shared some of the cake, then I took the rest back to the hotel to share with SH. SH says I should have left it all with Vanessa, or at least some of it, and he was right, but it just didn't occur to me.
SH tried a little bit of each flavor. "That one's not my favorite," he said after tasting the Grand Marnier.
"Fine with me. More for me. I didn't get it for you," I retorted.
The next morning, we each had a little bit for breakfast. Friday evening, we had a little more. SH ate the mocha, kahlua and double chocolate flavors. I ate the Grand Marnier.
Saturday morning, we packed. I ate another bite of the Grand Marnier truffle. Then I made the mistake of leaving it unguarded to take a shower.
I got out of the shower, walked back into the room, and saw SH eating the last of the truffle.
"What are you doing?!" I yelled.
"What?" SH answered guiltily.
"You ate the rest of the truffle!"
"So?" he shrugged.
"You said you didn't want any! You said you didn't like it!"
"No I didn't."
"Yes! You said it 'wasn't your favorite.' I relied on that statement. It was my birthday cake!"
"I never said I didn't like it."
"You said it wasn't your favorite! That's Leigh code for 'I don't like it!'"**
"I didn't say I didn't like. I don't dislike it. Besides, I thought you were going to let it go to waste."
"When have you ever seen me let food go to waste?! It was my birthday cake! You're a birthday cake eater!"
He apologized, but it was too late. He'd already eaten MY CAKE. This is war. I'm going to eat the rest of his anniversary cake, which is in the freezer, and see how he likes it.
* I went a little crazy and got a manicure, too. I've only had two manicures before this one. One that my friend Lenore got for me when I visited her in Chicago and the other the day before I got married and my sister and I went to the salon mostly to be pampered but also to not be at my house for reasons that some of you understand very well.
What important lessons have I learned? 1. Never invite people to stay at your house for nine days, unless they are people you want around for nine days and trust me, these were not people I wanted around for nine days. 2. A manicure lasts seven days. That's it. Which is probably why women who 1. use their hands and 2. don't have a lot of money and 3. are uncoordinated don't maintain manicured hands.
** After Leigh taught me, I taught SH that it was more polite to quietly say, "That's not my favorite" when declining food as opposed to stating forcefully, "Yuck! I HATE that!" Although when it is just the two of us, I have no problems vocalizing my dislike of tripe, a tiny piece of which I accidentally got when SH and I shared a bowl of pho. Tripe is nasty and I'm not afraid to say it.