Mr. Hawthorne Bakes A Birthday Cake For Rosie.

I'm quite exhausted from all of yesterday's activities and celebrations of Robert Burn's 250th Birthday Anniversary, but I was still able to rally today for my birthday celebration. Mr. Hawthorne asked me what kind of cake I wanted, as he was going to bake one for me. He saw the look in my eyes as I pondered this, and immediately said, "It can't be really difficult. I know you and I know that look, so just scale it back a few notches." Ahh, the man does know me too well, as I had this cake in mind:

It's Rose Levy Beranbaum's

Notre Dame Cathedral with stained glass windows. The recipe came with 10 pages of templates, complete with instructions on building the structural supports. This probably would require a degree in engineering, so you can just imagine my palpable disappointment when he nixed this creation.

Just give me some flying buttresses, anytime, and I'm happy. Mr. Hawthorne suggested a coconut cake and wanted me to google it for directions. And I came up with Ina Garten's recipe. How bad can that be?

Here's Mr. Hawthorne's mise en place. I know. I know. He really isn't into the mise, but he tries, bless his heart.

Ina's recipe called for the cake pans to be buttered, lined with parchment, then floured and buttered. Mr. Hawthorne traced the circle around the pan and started cutting, painstakingly.

And more cutting to get it perfect.

Then I showed him how it's really done in a fraction of the time.

Here, Mr. Hawthorne goes over his directions. Here, Mr. Hawthorne flours his cake pans. Please, enjoy. I know I did.

After his fumble with the cake pans, Mr. Hawthorne dropped the hand-held beater and all the attachments. Here, he's trying to retrieve the whisk from underneath the stove.

Mr. Hawthorne is sifting his dry ingredients. Then I saw him going over to the sifted bowl with a cup of sugar. "What are you doing with that," I asked? "I'm putting it in with the flour." "Ummmm. I don't think so." "Why not?" "Did you read the directions." "Yes." "Well read 'em again. I would imagine that sugar would get creamed in with the butter." "Oh... Well, damnit, these instructions are confusing." Sigh.

Mr. Hawthorne finally gets the sugar in the bowl with the butter.

Next, Ina's recipe calls for the eggs to be added one at a time. And Mr. Hawthorne proceeds to add them ... one at a time ... all at once. Me: "I think she meant to add an egg and beat after each addition. I believe that's what she meant by one at a time." Mr. H: ""Well, the instructions are confusing."

Almond and vanilla extracts went in.

Then he added the dried ingredients ...

... alternatively with the milk, in thirds, starting and ending with the dried ingredients. This was a concept not easily grasped by Mr. Hawthorne.

Next, coconut was added.

And he poured the batter into his prepared pans.

And I didn't even have to tell him to test for doneness.

While the cakes were cooking, he toasted some coconut to go on top.

And here's the icing. Butter, cream cheese, confectioner's sugar, and almond and vanilla extracts and coconut.

The cakes were perfectly cooked. He sliced the poofy top off the bottom layer to make the top layer set right.

Then he proudly announced to me: "I learned this trick from Sandra Lee," as he placed wax paper under the cake so he wouldn't make a mess with his frosting.

Mr. Hawthorne frosting my cake.

Top layer goes on.

And more frosting.

And more coconut and toasted coconut.

Isn't this beautiful? Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne.

And it was delicious too. If I've said it once, I've said it ... ohhhh .... two or three times: "Step back, ladies! He's all mine."

Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne, for a lovely birthday and delicious cake. How faaaabulous is that? (An Ina-ism for those not in the know.)