I couldn’t make a box-cake. Yes, I messed up a boxed cake. The only person I’ve ever known to mess up a box-cake was my ex-boyfriend’s mother, who, along with her over-zealous nature for life (God love her), thought that she was a fabulous cook/baker/homemaker/entertainer. She wasn’t, on any account.
As a baker (not a full-time, qualified, or trained pastry chef … yet), I am entirely against the idea of “box” cakes. They’re fake, full of additives, dumbed down of versions of what a REAL cake should be and taste like. Sadly, most people my age associate the home-made taste of “cake” with that box! Ironic, because there’s hardly anything homemade about it … ok, rant over.
But back to my point. A day before a began pastry school at The French Culinary Institute, I failed to make a box cake on a project I was working on for famed and loved dessert table and event planner Amy Atlas. Suffice to say, I left drained of confidence …
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