Birthday bupkis

Loyal readers may recall my annual tradition of whipping up something disastrous for Hubs' birthday. Obviously, I don't mean to eff things up so much, but I think the pressure of birthday baking just makes me crack.

This year, I went for a key lime cake. Hubs recently discovered a love of key lime pie, but you know, a birthday pie sounds less than thrilling. I Googled until I found a recipe that sounded about right and set about gathering my mise en place.

(Totally. Like using the phrase mise en place makes me sound like I know what the hell I'm doing, which, in case you lost track - I do not.)

Fancy French words that I learned from Bravo shows notwithstanding, I effed the shizzle (pardon my French) outta that poor cake.

I also did not use key limes because the store didn't have any. So there. The whole truth.

A rare sight, me (in profile no less!) looking seven kinds of domestic! Have I told you how much I love our new camera? It makes me look as good in pictures as I do striking a pose in front of the bathroom mirror.

The glaze was a simple lime juice plus powdered sugar. It had a heck of a tangy punch.

And the finished product. It sure looks purdy, and I was proud enough to force a parade of well-wishers to have a piece and toast to mon mari (more! French!). This proved a mistake. 

The cake was dense and barely cooked, even though the damn toothpick came out cleanly. Our friends were polite and finished their slices, bless their hearts.

At least some palettes are better suited to super tart undercooked cake:

For those of you playing along at home, that's birthday baking: 3, Alexson: 1. Here's to 2013!