Raaaawrr. Raaaaawwrrr. RAAAAWWWWRR. RRRAAAAAAAWWWWWWRRRRRRR!

LET THE WILD RUMPUS BEGIN!

Of waffles and other peaceful things...

It's Saturday morning, rainy and blustery. Perfect autumn weather, if you ask us. We just finished our weekend morning tradition of homemade waffles and now our bellies are full and we're ready for the day. Saturdays are my favorite. We can sleep as long as we want, which I'll admit isn't even that long in most people's books, but at least it's not 6am. When we do wake up, we can take as long as we want to stretch and relax and drowse, talking lazily with each other until the growl of our stomachs can no longer be ignored, at which point we get up and start breakfast together in the kitchen. It's the same routine every Saturday - two bowls, Isaac with his wheat flour, me with my assortment of teff, quinoa, and brown rice flours. I grind the flax seeds for both of us, Isaac melts our honey and butter together on the stove. I retrieve the baking powder, cinnamon, and salt from the cupboard while Isaac collects the wet ingredients from the fridge. We each take care of our respective bowls, but have done this every week for the past year that it's become so familiar, we could do it with our eyes closed and never miss a beat. I tell Isaac he can pour his waffle first, but he never does. Ever the gentleman. As my waffle cooks, I pick out the berries that sound the best so we can start their melting process. Once I'm happily preparing my perfectly toasted waffle, Isaac pours his and lets me start eating mine while it's still hot. It's the sign that the weekend has come, that today is going to be a good day, that the world is going to be alright.

I love Saturdays.

Soon...

I'll be back. Soon.

Don't worry.

Baby cakes...

Ummm, so I have to show you how the cake turned out last night. I should start with a little history first, though. I am a baker at heart. I love, love, love to bake. I love to bake like Isaac loves to cook, and that's saying something. I am also incredibly impulsive when it comes to life in general. I believe I've blogged about this before, but when I decide to cut or dye my hair, it has to be done that day if at all possible because I just can't wait another day for what I want. When I decided to pierce my nose, I made the appointment for right after work that day. So it should come as no surprise to you that when I get the urging to bake a cake, I've got to do it as soon as I get home from work. And this would be all fine and good if only Isaac was a cake-eater. Or, more specifically, a frosting eater, which he is most definitely not. So what happens is I bake this incredible cake, eat one piece, and then the rest gets wasted because Isaac doesn't want to eat the frosting I put on it (because, seriously, what's a cake without frosting?) and I don't want to eat any more sugar than the one piece I already had. So my dear husband made a little rule for my impulsive baking about a month ago limiting me to baking only tiny baby cakes if I'm going to make one. Then nothing gets wasted. We headed off to Goodwill and found the cutest little three inch springform cake pans and my baby cake baking days began.

Fastforward to last night's peanut butter chocolate cake that I was pining for. Here are the little guys right out of the oven, and then here's the final speciman. Pretty adorable, huh? The peanut butter chocolate ganache is a little thick, but it still tasted incredible. The funny thing is we brought the cake over to J and A's, all four of us (yes, even Isaac) had a piece, and there was still half the cake left. It was so rich, that's all we could handle in one setting. I can't imagine how much would have gone to waste if I had baked the entire recipe worth! Oh, and I made this perfect cake gluten free and no one would have even guessed.

So if you're looking for the perfect cake to bring to your next dinner party or birthday or something, this might just have been the best cake I've ever partaken in. Just saying...