A birthday interlude

Every year, I try to get crazy in the kitchen for Hubs birthday. You've seen me try my hand at cinnamon rolls, eggs benedict and key lime cake with wildly unpredictable rates of success. Nevertheless, on the docket for the mister's 28th was a variation on his favorite dessert - tiramisu in cupcake form!

(I once tried making Hubs real tiramisu back before I had a kitchen you could fit two people in and it was a horrible, horrible mistake. It tastes like cheap booze layered with unflavored gelatin. And the sweetheart still ate half the dish. Hubs clearly loves tiramisu so much, he can't even hate on sad versions.)

This experiment in cupcakery was really not too bad. I followed the directions (which is typically where I go wrong with these things) and am pleased to report that we enjoyed 18 of these little beauties, which taste just as good as they look! Seriously, try them for yourself.

I am now 1-1 in the birthday dessert department. I sense the beginning of a streak here, people.

Other ways to celebrate your husband's final non-dad birthday:

Presents, duh. Hubs got a new kitchen faucet and two ridiculously fat beer books.

Dinner at Baru 66 (which, while divine, was lacking a little in the vino department for me thanks to the bambino en borde. Sad times!).

Beatles Brunch at Cafe di Scala (it was our first time hitting up this monthly event and Oh. Holy. Cakes. The chicken and waffles made me want to melt into a puddle right at my seat. So amazing. I also had a virgin bloody mary with the house-made mix, which was fresh and bright).

Massages at East Village Spa (a new birthday tradition! Any excuse to take a little snooze on those fun beds).

Buy a Super Coat. Someone ruined her husband's winter coat in the wash and so we hit Eddie Bauer where this "little" guy was 60% off. Hubs can now trek comfortably in -40 degree climes and sleep well knowing he paid just $165 for the privilege.

Hooray for birthdays!

In the weeds

This weekend, we're re-tackling the .75 acre that is our little urban jungle. Remember our patio garden? And the grand ole Pit?

Well, with warm breezes and leaves on trees (girly squealllllll! I love leaves on trees!), it's time to whip those spaces into shape. The plants are all way ahead of us, as we never even bothered to rake leaves back there last fall and here come the hops and hostas and peonies popping through the mess!

Also on the agenda for my last weekend as a 28 year old lass? Making a dent in the Yuengling stash my parents loaded me up with in STL last weekend (seriously - the entirety of my fridge's bottom shelf is solid beer right now. Add to that Hubs' two kegs of homebrew and the 30 bottles of homemade wine that are officially ready for consumption and well, let's just say the Bigger, Better, Best clan's eyes are most definitely larger than their aging livers), bike riding and zipping around on two legs, because - did you hear? Homeslice named me just ran a 5 mile race (on St. Pat's no less, when she could have been celebrating early), regularly runs at least 15 miles a week and is training for Dam to Dam (a 20-flippin-k!) in June.

Related agenda item: Buying up all the skinny lady clothes I can find because somebody dropped 20 pounds and has legit arm muscles.

Anyway, I'm hoping we can at least get the gardens cleaned up, pruned back and trellised this weekend. I've also got to shift some hostas around quick like a ninja before the rhizomes get too thick for me to dig through.

What are you up to this weekend? Would you be willing to rake leaves and weed for beer?

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!

Happy birthday, Hubster!

The most cat-lovingest, beer brewing, DIY maniac of a Hubs is celebrating his birthday this very day!

I love when birthdays fall on Fridays, don't you?