A brief segue before we proceed: Husband likes to cook. It's a strange quirk and is not normally found in a lot of men... He also detests craft. Not that he doesn't appreciate it from a distance, in the same way that a mollusc might appreciate a mountain climber; he just has no desire to ever be a part of it. It's flavour he craves.
This led him recently to decide it was time to buy a new set of knives. I still have yet to see the link between the sharpness of a knife and the flavour of a meal, but he assured me that as part of his cooking escapades, the knives were needed.
Two days after their arrival, my daughter decided to help out washing up the items that were strategically placed into the sink to "soak". Sometimes "soaking" can take up to five days... Shut up.
She picked up the knife, grabbed a sponge, and ran it across the blade... Not halfway across the edge, the sponge fell in two like one of those Samurai movies where they throw an apple in the air and swing the blade and when it comes down, it's a Cider... But, it also sliced a diagonal chunk of her finger.
After a frantic call to Husband at work for instruction, and his attendance to the worst of it when he got home, determining that stitches were not required, it was decided that perhaps only adults should handle the super-crazy-sharp new knives.
Bear that story in mind.
Now on to the cake: It was going to be a carousel cake, and I had no real idea how I was going to do it... Two cakes on top of each other? But how would they stay up? What about the horses? Fondant? Meatloaf? Actual horses?
The conclusion was to make three cakes, sculpt the top two into a cone, cover them all white, make them pretty, and hot glue a bunch of the horses to some cake pop sticks, which would be wrapped in ribbon... $30 in overpriced miniature plastic ponies later, and I was ready to rock!
|Like a surgeon, cuttin' for the very first time.|