The recipe called for reducing apple cider with dried apples, then pulsing in the processor, to create a condensed and flavorful apple base for the cake. Classic Rock worked diligently (can you tell he's drumming his fingers on the counter while he checks his recipe?) to get the cake batter made and into the oven. Then he realized it would bake for almost 30 minutes. By this time, Irish Jig was grazing her way through those items within her reach - bananas, clementines, cheese sticks, and goldfish. Oh, and a box of Girl Scout cookies she pilfered from the "to be delivered" stash (add another $3.50 to my tab, thanks). I stepped in and made breakfast for the mongrel hoard.
The cake continued to bake, taking a bit longer than the recipe indicated. That's fine because we enjoyed it for dessert after lunch.
I think my father-in-law gifted it to me in order to save his poor son and grandchildren from my sub-par cooking attempts. See, I am not a natural born chef. In fact, I really don't like to cook. Well, actually, I should say I enjoy the cooking part, just not the timing of various dishes so that it all arrives at the table in harmony and at the correct serving temperature. It's just too stressful. For years, Mr. Neoclassic has been in charge of dinner preparation. Many of you read that statement and immediately thought one of two things:
- Wow! He's awesome and how do a get one of him? Well he is awesome and he enjoys cooking, so it's relaxing (most of the time) to come in from work and decompress by creating something wonderful.
- Wow! She's the laziest and most spoiled wife on earth! Well, that may be true. However, in the early years of our marriage, before children, Mr. Neoclassic would get home as much as three hours before me. It made sense for him to make dinner. And he's a much better chef. Hands down, the children would rather eat his creations.