Devil's Food Cake with Midnight Ganache

This is the cake that I made last weekend (the Weekend of the Two Chocolate Cakes) and was the second of two that I attacked. At first, I thought I'd finish them both by 5:00 (the time the potluck party started--the one where I said I'd bring cake whether the hostess liked iti or not), but this little baby wasn't frosted at 5:00, and I was already committed to the raspberry cake anyway. This one was going to have to wait for Monday, when it would go into the office to feed some lawyers.

The dried sour cherries have been soaking in Cognac and Lyle's Syrup overnight. After I tasted them, I thought maybe I'd let them soak a little too long because the flavors you could taste were, in order, cognac, cognac, and cognac. Maybe a cherry-flavored cognac? They would be lovely on ice cream, or some flaming dessert, but I thought they might be a little much for an afternoon cake. I rinsed them and dried them.

More of that chocolate chopping! And lots of it. I was glad I'd cut the recipe in half; otherwise, I'd have to chop twice as much. No doubt you're impressed by my brilliant analytical mind.

I was determined to get the caramel right this time! I decided that my main problem lies in trying to make sure the caramel is sufficiently caramelized, which led me to leave it on the burner just a few seconds longer. By then, the thermometer would register above the correct number. This time, I decided, I'd be sure to remove the pan from the heat at 360--a full ten degrees lower than the proper temperature of 370. (No, I didn't take it off the heat at 192.4

I was overjoyed with the way it turned out. I kept looking around for little caramel droplets that I could lick up. I wanted to just stop right there, forget about the rest of the ganache, and eat up all the caramel sauce. But because I'm a mature person, I didn't.

Instead, I mixed more chopped chocolate into the hot caramel.

And then I added the dissolved cocoa mixture into the chocolate-caramel mixture, for an even more chocolate intensity. Truthfully, I was missing the caramel. If you were given your choice between a beautifully homemade truffle and a beautifully homemade caramel, which would you take? I'd be sad to miss the truffle, but I'd take the caramel.

And now it's time for the chocolate cake. Over the weekend, I used up all the 62% chocolate I had on hand, most of the white chocolate, well over half of my stash of cocoa, not to mention ridiculously large amounts of flour and sugar. And I was only baking small cakes! This cake starts out with a mixture of cocoa and unsweetened chocolate (or, for a "more mellow" flavor, cocoa and semisweet chocolate).

Half a cake called for one egg and one egg yolk. To make up for my egg yolk shortage, I called on my last quail egg.

The batter looked so light and delicious that I was a little sorry to add chocolate to it.

But after adding chocolate and beating for a few minutes, the batter looked even lighter and fluffier.

And it baked into a nicely textured chocolate cake. It was more difficult to judge doneness on these little cakes,, but they both turned out okay.

The ganache, after sitting around for about ten hours, was rich, dark, and spreadable. So good that I didn't want to use it all for frosting the cake--after baking all day, I deserved to lick the bowl, right? The caramel flavor was subtle. I wouldn't have minded a little less subtlety, but it was very good.

With the large amount of frosting between layers, the addition of plump cherries, and the fact that I didn't do a great job of centering the top layer, there was a huge gap between layers. This gap led to sides that weren't perfectly straight. I must say that I've found that people are not at all interested in hearing your monologue about all the things that are wrong with the cake--they just want you to shut up, slice into the cake, and serve them some.

So that's what I did. But first, I cut a slice for Jim because I didn't think I'd be bringing any cake home, and he feels very mistreated if he hangs around the kitchen photographing the cake and then doesn't even get to taste it.

TASTING PANEL:

Dianne: "Is this a Black Forest Cake? I really like the cherries and the chocolate together."
Erika: "That's because she soaked the cherries in cognac. That's why I'm so tired now. It's from eating cognac in the middle of the afternoon."
Rachel: "There's no more alcohol in cognac than in vanilla. I made vanilla once. I just put a vanilla bean in vodka."
Wolanda: "You can test positive on a urine test from drinking vanilla or Nyquil."
Julie: "Anyway, the cake is great. Are you serious that you want to give the rest of it away? I'll take it."
[This is how conversation degenerates among criminal defense lawyers].
Jim: The cake is delicious. I really like the alcohol-laden cherries, and the rich, rich chocolate.

Moist Chocolate Raspberry Genoise

Sometime in the middle of the week, I realized that I had to make two huge chocolate cakes this weekend, and had to write about them both before I left for Puerto Rico on Tuesday. I fretted about this for hours. I checked the recipes. The raspberry genoise serves 18; the devil's food cake with midnight ganache serves 20. How was I going to find 38 people to eat big hunks of chocolate cake this weekend? And how was I going to blog about both of them? Also, I hadn't replaced my food processor yet, and I always use Rose's food-processor method to make my ganache. Oh woe, woe is me.

Then I remembered my cute little six-inch pans, and I remembered I was going to a party on Sunday where I was supposed to bring wine, but I could bring wine and a cake, couldn't I? I called the hostess and told her I didn't care what she said, I was bringing a cake along with my bottle of wine. She seemed a little surprised about my vehemence, but said that would be okay. Now I could breathe easier.

Then my only problem was that I was baking two chocolate cakes--both in six-inch pans, both frosted with chocolate ganache--on the same day. I knew I'd get confused, and I did, but nothing too horrible happened.

Cake #1 started with the genoise. The first time I made a genoise cake, I wasn't too excited about it. It was so delicate it fell apart, and I thought that any cake that needed some hoity-toity syrup to be edible was too weak and fragile to be a bona fide cake. My ancestors, working in the fields, didn't put syrup on their cakes; of that you may be sure. But then I fell in love with the genoise cakes. Now I'm crazy about their flavor, texture, and versatility. I also love whipping those eggs. I actually forgot about the new chocolate genoise method that Rose wrote about in her blog, but I'm used to the old method by now.

The cakes rose to the tops of the six-inch pans. The cake was pale brown, but smelled like it carried a real chocolate punch.

On to the raspberry-chocolate ganache. Without my food processor, I had to chop the chocolate--a task I don't much like. The last time Hanaa baked at my house, I admired her efficiency and ease when she chopped chocolate, but admiring it isn't the same thing as adopting it. I chopped what seemed like a ton of mixed dark and white chocolates. I need to get that food processor.

I used frozen raspberry puree instead of pureeing and straining frozen raspberries. Straining raspberries is one of my least favorite jobs in the kitchen. I would rather chop chocolate all day long than strain raspberries. And pouring the raspberry puree into cream really made me happy. If I were on a desert island and could have only three foods, raspberries would be one of the three. I just wouldn't strain them.

The ganache turned out to be smooth, rich, and chocolatey. At first I was afraid that the chocolate would overpower the raspberries, but on second taste, I decided that the raspberries weren't hidden by the chocolate; they enhanced each other. I suppose that's why the chocolate-raspberry combination is so popular--it works.

Just a little glug of Chambord can't hurt.

The cakes were small enough that I could cut them with a serrated knife into more or less even layers.

Syruping the cake with cocoa syrup cake next, and then filling the layers with ganache. Even after a few hours at room temperature, the ganache was too runny, although it was dark and smooth. I put it in the refrigerator to thicken it up. Then I did something else with Cake #2; consequently the ganache got too thick. I had one heck of a time frosting the outside of the cake. I banished Jim from the kitchen because he was taking pictures of me doing battle with the ganache (the ganache was winning).

I called him back after the cake finally got frosted. He said, "Oh, it's cute!" I think he was surprised that it turned out looking like a cake. After I ordered him out of the kitchen, he'd thought that this cake was going on the Disaster List.

Despite the trouble I had with the refrigerated ganache, the cake really isn't hard to make, although there are a lot of steps. When you're baking another cake at the same time, it seems like it's more complicated than it really is. And the people at the party loved it.

Cake #2 (the cake for next week) is frosted, in the cake carrier, and ready to go into the office tomorrow. Cake #1 is a thing of the past.

I'm leaving for vacation on Tuesday, so there will be no mid-week post this week. I'll have next week's cake--the Devil's Food with Midnight Ganache--ready to post automatically on Sunday or Monday. Remember to check Rose's blog for the alternative method of mixing the devil's food cake if you want a slightly less tender, less crumbly cake.

Last Cake, Next Cake

At first I thought all the Heavenly Cake Bakers held some kind of grudge against Sticky Toffee Pudding. By the end of Monday, there were only about four posts, but, as of now, 11 prople have written posts and there is the promise of a 12th one by Vicki, who has been suffering from what her doctor dubbed the "18-day flu."

Bakers were divided: some had never heard of Sticky Toffee Pudding and were unaware that the British refer to dessert in general as "pudding," as in, "What's for pudding?"

Katya, one of our seasoned travelers (where are those pictures of Lisbon, anyway?) thought that Rose's version of this "extra-Brit" dessert was extra-good, though, as usual, she souped up her own, adding lemon and orange peel, sultanas and currants to her dates (which she claimed were past their prime).

Kristina, who grew up in New Brunswick, was familiar with pudding desserts, but didn't like them, especially Christmas puddings, and especially fruitcakes. But she liked this one, as did her co-workers. Kristina thinks the leftover sauce would be great on ice cream, and it's hard to disagree.

Lynnette had never baked a pudding, but it's been "on her radar to try" for quite a while. She also recalled a favorite ice cream that was called sticky toffee pudding. Her conclusion: "What is not to like?"

On the other hand, the "sticky toffee pudding" moniker meant nothing to Jenn, who thought it just sounded like a spice cake, which she doesn't particularly like. But, making five cupcakes with one-third of the recipe, she actually ended up liking it quite a bit. (I'm waiting for Jenn to make 3/7 of a recipe sometime, just to challenge herself).

And Lois, who lived in England for 18 months, had never run across sticky toffee pudding while she was there. It took another trip to the UK before she discovered the pudding's delights, and wanted to try this recipe so much that she made it in her daughter's tiny kitchen in Boca Raton.

As usual, our Bakers were quite creative in the pans and presentations. Maria, for example, used a square cupcake pan (that she just "HAD to have") and poured the rest of the batter into a festive pudding tin.

Hanaa made three cakes with the batter for this one cake: she used and 8 x 8-inch square pan, and two six-inch round ones. Hanaa used ginger ale instead of stout, and eliminated the creme fraiche and nuts, but the cake still played to an enthusiastic audience at her house.

Nancy B. cut the recipe in half, but still ended up with enough for nine: nine cakelets made in her one-half cup ramekins. Nancy liked the way the "tang of the crème fraîche complements the sweet toffee sauce and cake very nicely."

Jennifer was enthusiastic herself. She concluded that "all four components come together in a synergistic rush of pure, delicious, cakey joy." I was with her until she said, "I almost wish we were having dark gray stormy days to go along with this cake as it would be so fitting." Sorry--I just can't go along with a wish for rotten weather.

Shandy, our FEATURED BAKER this week, has tasted Sticky Toffee Pudding, but had never made it before. I think it won't be the last time, though, because she sounds pretty enthusiastic: "As the fork tines slid into the cake, I knew making this recipe was worth every second." She was smitten with the date and stout mixture, and was crazy about the "moist, flavorful, lightly spicy cake." Her cake square, with toffee sauce, creme fraiche, and pecans, is every bit as pretty as the picture in the cookbook. Well done, Shandy!

It's been a long time since I've welcomed a new baker, but I'd like to introduce you to Alice, who makes her blogging debut with her individual puddings.

I felt I had to turn down the people who asked to start baking along because we were so close to the end of the project it didn't make sense to add people who'd only have a chance to bake a few cakes. But Jenn has offered to keep the blog going for those of you who want to complete RHC but are not going to be able to finish when I do. We haven't worked out the details yet, but don't worry--if you still have 25 cakes left to bake, you're not going to have to bake them all in the next three months. More information on this later.

As I said last week, I don't know how I managed the schedule so that we're doing two chocolate cakes in a row, but that's just the way it is. Your friends who love chocolate are going to love you.

Next week's chocolate cake is the Moist Chocolate Raspberry Genoise. Remember how everyone was raving about the taste of the last chocolate genoise we made? If you missed it then, now is a good time to see what you missed. And if you made it then, you won't want to miss it. As usual with genoise cakes, Rose recommends that you make the cake a day ahead of time for best flavor.
Those of you who have sworn in irritation at those annoying bits of white flour that don't quite get mixed into the genoise batter will want to check out Matthew's new mixing method. Woody tested and photographed the results. He's now a committed fan of Michael's Method.

Another refinement from the original version: before you make the Devil's Food Cake with Midnight Ganache, scheduled for March 14, you'll want to check Real Baking with Rose to get her update on the mixing method for this cake. She found that the cake was a "bit too tender," so she went back to her standard mixing method. Rose recommends the updated method, both for ease of preparation and for the best texture. Also note that the recipe calls for making the ganache at least six hours before using and the cherries at least eight hours ahead (or overnight).

Sticky Toffee "Pudding"

I was not looking forward to making this cake. It looked like it was going to be cloyingly sweet, and I didn't think I'd ever be able to get rid of twelve pieces of way-too-sweet cake. But I ended up loving all the elements of the cake and could happily have eaten my way through the whole thing. If you too turned up your nose at this recipe and decided to pass it by, I implore you to give it a try.

This is the first time a can of stout has been in the mise en place. Jim was happy to have an excuse to buy an eight-pack of Guinness.

To my knowledge, this is the first time I've ever poured beer in a saucepan and brought it to the boil. I'm absolutely certain that it's the first time I've ever added baking soda to boiling beer. As you might expect, the mixture starts to fizz.

After the dates macerate (my favorite word from last week) in the hot beer for a while, they're supposed to be put in a food processor until mixed to a brown slurry. My food processor chose this moment to give up the ghost. I thought about getting out my immersion blender, but then decided that I'd rather have bits of dates in the cake anyway. So I just chopped the softened dates, and was glad I did--the little pieces of dates added to the textural interest of the cake.

The three eggs I broke into a bowl measured 142 grams. I didn't want to use another whole egg for eight measly grams, and I decided to call it good enough. Then I remembered that I still had a few of my darling quail eggs. (Don't worry folks; the sell-by date is not until March 2). One petite quail egg put me six grams over, so I scooped out a spoonful. There. 150 grams on the dot.

I expect that the cake would have been slightly darker if I'd succeeded in pureeing the dates, but I like the date-studded looks of it. The batter didn't fill the pan one-third full. I looked through the ingredients to see if nothing was missing, but everything was accounted for.

While the cake was baking, I made the toffee sauce. Jim watched me mix the butter and brown sugar, and said, "That looks awfully rich." He sounded as doubtful as I felt. I said, "Wait until I add the cream." But I also added two tablespoons of lemon juice. The lemon juice was an addition of pure genius; its tartness cut the sugary sweetness of the sauce into something quite palatable. Downright delicious, in fact.

Time to remove the cake from the pan. I was worried about this step because the pan-preparation directions had nothing about spraying the parchment paper or the sides of the pan. I'd been fretting about that ever since I noticed. I considered just spraying the pan, but then I remembered my baking mantra: "Rose has her reasons."

Indeed, the cake emerged from the pan with nary a mishap. It still looked thinner than I thought it should.

When I cut into it, though, I decided that the crumb looked okay. Too late, I remembered the cake-testing sheets that Woody had left at my house, and I didn't measure the cake's height. Sorry, Woody. Someday I may be more scientific in my approach.

I can't resist another picture of the finished product. The effect on guests of cutting the cake, spooning the luscious toffee sauce over, dolloping the creme fraiche, and topping with toasted pecans is quite amazing. People are so impressed, and think you did so much more work than you actually did. Both the cake and the sauce are easy to mix up (the sauce, unlike a traditional caramel sauce, does not require taking its temperature); the creme fraiche is just taken out of its carton and whisked, and the pecans simply toasted and chopped. But when you put it all together, it looks like you're a kitchen ace. And all so good! The date-spice cake could be eaten out of hand, and the toffee sauce is amazing. The creme fraiche, along with the miraculous lemon juice, adds a little tartness, and the pecans make it perfect.

TASTING PANEL:

Pat: "Wow. This is delicious. This is really good."
Myra: "Mmmm. I love this cake."
Jim: "This is wonderful. It has a variety of nice flavors--delicious. One of my favorites so far."

Last Cake, Next Cake

It was a fairly small group that entered the Free Choice Sweepstakes last week (no, it's not really a sweepstakes)--of course, we're missing Mendy and Lois, who are somewhere in the process of house/apartment-hunting/moving. But those who baked really baked up a storm.

There must have been some subconscious chocolate thing going around because two people (in addition to me) made the Barcelona Brownie Bars.

Allergic-to-nuts-except-for-almonds Hanaa substituted toasted almonds for pecans, baked the brownies in her mini brioche molds, and decorated each brownie brioche with three almonds. Raymond followed the recipe almost exactly, except for the substitution of walnuts for pecans. Since he was making them specifically for someone who hates pecans, this seemed reasonable. Unlike Hanaa, Raymond made the ganache plugs, which he thought were good but "not at all necessary for the enjoyment of these little morsels."

We also doubled up on another recipe: the Heavenly Coconut Seduction Cake. (I had to go to my book to see whether it was the Heavenly Coconut Seduction Cake or the Heavenly Seduction Coconut Cake. This is a very confusing issue if you give it too much thought).

Our math whiz Jenn made 70% of the recipe--something I don't think I've ever heard of anyone else doing. But it worked for her--making a small heart-shaped pan and a few cupcakes. Jenn doesn't much like coconut cake herself, but was excited to make this because her husband does. (She calls herself "cheesy" for this sentiment, but I say it sounds like every day is Valentine's Day at the Knitty Baker household).

I almost missed Nancy B's posting about her heavenly seduction cake because she followed it so closely with her post about her ciabatta. Both are lovely; indeed, they are seductive. Nancy thinks of this cake as the "five forms of coconut cake," although she ended up using only four forms.

Speaking of every day being Valentine's Day, Kristina lets her husband choose what cake to make for Free Choice week. This week he chose the marble velvet cake, and Kristina obliged. She thinks she needs to "work on [her] marbling skills," but I say her marbling skills look A-OK.

Even in deep midwinter, the Lemon Crown Cake looked good to Maria, who made it with Meyer lemons as a treat for her mother, who was coming home from Dubai(!) Maria had never made homemade ladyfingers before (oh, how I remember my first attempt at ladyfingers!), but her first try was a winner, as was the cake, beautifully wrapped in a green ribbon.

Some people took Free Choice week to extremes. Sarah, for example, did the No-Bake Cheesecake as well as the Carrot Cake. You've probably seen the frosting carrots that a standard bakery uses as decoration on its carrot cakes. Nice. But then you should look at the marzipan "heirloom carrots" that Sarah dreamed up for her carrot cake. More than nice.

And Katya went on a baking rampage. She did three catch-up cakes: the Lemon Canadian Crown, the Black Chocolate Party Cake, and the Quail Egg Indulgence. I must say that Katya pooh-poohed those of us who were "moaning and groaning" about making homemade ladyfingers. She likes to make ladyfingers, and sounds like she's been doing it since she was about three years old. But her blog did remind me that I had some ladyfingers in my freezer, so I'm not going to get all sniffy about her ladyfinger superiority.

And then, if you want to talk about someone who really went baking crazy, take a look at Jennifer, and her epic 72-hour kitchen adventure. She made a wedding cake (which included the golden lemon almond cake as her free choice selection), as well as "baking three different cakes, making four fillings, seven syrups, and three different frostings (one frosting I made three times)."

And so we're all one cake closer to finishing all the cakes in the book.

This upcoming week is something very different: a sticky toffee "pudding" that's not a pudding at all, at least not an American "pudding." It's a spice cake flavored with dates--and stout--topped wiith a butterscotch toffee sauce and a pecan and creme fraiche topping. Just the thing if you're eating light. You can also make individual "puddings," and I'm hoping that at least a few people will take that route. The pudding/cake is made in a 9 by 13 pan and serves 12. That's a lot of pudding. I expect some people will want to cut this recipe in half, and I may be one of them.

The following two weeks are both chocolate cakes. I don't know how that happened--I usually try not to have two chocolate desserts in a row. I've learned my lesson, though, and will not change the order of recipes once they've been announced.

Barcelona Brownie Bars (and Madeleines) with Cherries Macerated in Kirsch

I love the word "macerate." It sounds so much more stylish than "soak." Especially if you are macerating something--dried cherries in this case--in kirsch. My Free Choice cake is a reprise of the Barcelona Brownies, but with said cherries macerated in said kirsch substituting for the pecans. And no ganache plugs this time because 1) they caused me trouble last time and 2) they're really not necessary because these brownies are so moist and lovely on their own.

As I write, we are having Blizzard #22 in Minnesota. To be honest, it may not be the 22nd blizzard but it feels like it. At least with the brownies in hand, and the short ribs in red wine I'm planning to make tomorrow, we'll be happy in our snowed-in condition. I don't want to hear a peep out of those of you who live in Florida or anyplace else where it's 80 degrees outside.

I'm done with my winter rant now and will go back to the cake. When I was looking for a cake to do for Free Choice week, I saw this variation. But when I went to my liquor cabinet, which, as you know, has grown mightily during this cake-baking project, I found that I was - oddly - bereft of either kirsch or cherry heering. Did I really want to invest more money in another bottle of some obscure liqueur? Oh, sure. But not cherry heering, which sounds too much like fish.

I did something that I thought was very clever, and that saved a pan. The directions say to melt the chocolate and butter in a double boiler, and then transfer it to the mixing bowl. I just used the mixing bowl as the top of the double boiler. OK, maybe everyone else has thought of this too, but I'm usually such a slave to the directions that I feel inordinately pleased with myself when I do something more or less creative.

In no time at all, the batter is mixed up and ready to be poured into the financier pans (or whatever). I swear I own two financier pans. I must, because I've made numerous batches of financiers. But I could only locate one of them. I decided to use my madeleine pan for the leftover batter. Financier/madeleine: they're both French words, right?

45 grams of batter went into each financier slot, whereas the madeleine pans held only about 20 grams each. At 12 minutes, when I checked the financiers, they were very liquid. I checked again at 15: still not done. A surprise, because usually my convection oven, set 25 degrees lower, finishes fast. I decided that at low temps (325F - 300 in the convection), maybe there wasn't much of a difference. I raised the temperature to 325 and removed them from the oven after another few minutes. Two of them were still not completely done, but Jim and I ate them to protect other people from the horror of underdone brownies.

I was going to drizzle them with a little cream cheese frosting, but, after tasting them, decided they didn't need anything else. My investment club is meeting at my house on Tuesday, and I'll sprinkle them with powdered sugar before I serve them, assuming any are left. Perhaps we'll be moved to invest in a chocolate company. Or in NordicWare.

The tasting panel was called on account of the blizzard, and the brownies, as of Sunday night, were tasted only by Jim and me, both of whom were crazy about them.

Last Cake, Next Cake

I thought that everyone would be dying to make this little cake for Valentine's Day, but we actually had a pretty small participation this week. Whether the low turnout was caused by quail-egg anxiety or other baking commitments or winter vacations I don't know. In my opinion, the people who missed this one may want to give it a try on a Free Choice week. But that's just my opinion--I'll admit that this cake got mixed reviews.

Like me, Jennifer fell in love with the quail eggs (and the quail, for that matter: "if I ever came across ... one, and I could get away with it, ... I would hug the little bird. They are just so dang cute!")  Oh, and the cake? Well, she liked that too: "dense, rich, and soft with a crispy buttery crust."

Mendy also liked the quail eggs ("little lovelies"), and the cake as well: he thought his cupcakes "had an exceptional, indulgent flavor. Really something special."

Lois had two heart-shaped pans, so she made two cakes: one, in the spirit of a giving holiday, to give to friends. Lois gave a good description of what we all experienced when trying to break and separate the quail eggs: "Working with quail eggs is not easy. Rapping the shell on the edge of a bowl will crack the shell, but I still had to poke through the very tough membrane. The eggs are mostly yolk, but this does not help with separating. The small amount of white clung to the yolk with great tenacity." Rose recommends a quail egg decapitator (how's that for a specialized piece of equipment?!)

Nancy B. knew just where to find her quail eggs: she'd seen them a thousand times at a local farmers' market.  She found them at a second market, and bought a spare package so she could double the recipe, using Texas muffin pans. Results? Everyone (except one nephew) "loved the crispy crunchy crust (as advertised), the fine crumb, and the nice vanilla/butter flavor." But, unless she gets an egg decapitator to make quail-egg-separating time easier, she thought she'd probably use chicken eggs next time.

And using chicken eggs is just what Vicki did. (She called hers a "quail-free egg indulgence cake.") Vicki, who has self-proclaimed "guilt issues over eggs as a non vegan vegetarian," just couldn't bring herself to hunt down the quail eggs because she remembered when it was a common sight in California to see a covey of quails, but all that construction has invaded their habitat. Her tasters thought they resembled a "sugar cookie in cake form."

If you've read Raymond's blog entry, you'll know that he gave the cake a decided thumbs down, both because of the ridiculous price of quail eggs ($3 per egg, or $15 for enough eggs to make the petite cake), and because he just didn't like the cake. (" I made it on Saturday morning and when we ate it at dinner it was hard and dry. We literally took one bite and tossed the whole thing into the trash.")

Our Valentine's Day FEATURED BAKER is Jenn--one of just a few who had the small heart-shaped pan recommended for this recipe. What I really liked about Jenn's cake was that it wasn't perfect, but she used her cake lemons to make lemonade. She photographed her cake that failed to come out of the pan in one piece against a pretty pink lacy background and dubbed it the "broken heart" cake. And, because Jenn is seriously into catching up, she baked a second cake--the chocolate streusel coffee cake. "32 cakes to go YAY" Finally, I loved Jenn's endearing revelation that she was fed quail eggs as a child in her mother's undying effort to put some fat on that skinny girl's bones.

Lola thought she was making the Cake of the Week--only she thought that it was a Free Choice week. (In fairness to Lola, I should point out that it was Free Choice week until I switched it around so that the Quail Egg cake would be the cake for Valentine's Day). She made the Double Chocolate Valentine--which was our V-Day cake last year, and is hard to beat, especially when it's covered with whipped-cream rosettes.

But it's this upcoming week that's Free Choice week. Grab your cookbook and choose a recipe that has already been made, either by me baking alone, or by the group--and bake away!

On February 28, the last day of February (hooray! winter is almost over!), we'll bake the Sticky Toffee "Pudding." As you may guess from the quotation marks around "pudding," this isn't what we Americans think of as pudding, but others will not find it at all odd to call a cake a pudding. It's flavored with stout, preferably Guinness. For those of you who don't drink alcohol, a non-alcoholic beer could substitute. Several internet sites also say that ginger ale can be a beer substitute.

Coincidentally, two of our bloggers, Mendy and Lois, announced that they would be off the baking rotation for a few weeks because they're moving. Mendy just found out he needed to look for a new place, and Lois is going to move to Poland, where she frequently visits, for a few years at least. Good luck to both of you--may your moves be smooth and your return to baking be speedy.