I have forgotten what day and week of social isolation/distancing we are in. I am reminded it is April 1st, only because Instagram tells me so, but my normal markers of time are all thrown off. I rely on KWeeks and his schedule to let me know when the weekend is, but in the words of Morrissey, every day feels like Sunday.
But, shockingly, I believe in dreams. In my very best moments, when I am not beset by the constant thrum of anxiety, I like to imagine and plan and design and create.
Side note: all of the posts talking about how you should stay busy and MAKE THE BEST WORK OF YOUR LIFE can fuck right off, though. Right now I am just trying to find my ass with both hands, and that’s the best I can do most days when so many uncertainties are afloat.
But I digress.
If I can, for just a few moments, put aside the facts of the day, the very horror that is not only this lurking virus but also the dawning realization that no one in our government gives a rat’s ass, so long as we KEEP SPENDING MONEY, then I can magically transport myself to sunnier times.
Like this.
And so it begins.
This is the basic floor plan of the house that we will build in Canada. We taped it out at Khristian’s studio this morning, against official orders to stay at home. This was not a strictly essential trip, as the state defines it, but we saw no one and properly sanitized ourselves before, during, and after our foray.
The cabin will be hand-built and 144 square feet. To the right, between the two unconnected taped lines, there will be a large glass window overlooking the Bay of Fundy. All of the other necessaries are there, too (bed, kitchen area, wood stove), and we will eventually build a walkway to another platform so we can watch the seals and pilot whales as they rest in the Bay.
For now, it was enough to get the outline of the place and to imagine drinking coffee, overlooking our foggy spot, or falling asleep to the glow of the stove and the light of the moon.
One day, Canada will open back up to filthy Americans such as ourselves, and we will travel gratefully north to start construction.
The state of Maryland may not feel that today’s trip was essential, but for me it was. It was essential to remind myself that there is work to be done, things to create, and lands to see.
This is about a delicious cake, and the creative life, and how they are intertwined with each other.
It has been almost exactly a month since my last blog in this space, and I think that might just be my rhythm now. I never wanted this blog to be a space where I felt obligated to post – where’s the fun in that?
Such irregular posting does violate the cardinal rules of Building An Audience, though. I also don’t stuff my posts with keywords (long-tail or otherwise) or have ads on my site. I have only just within the last year or so started putting the recipe in the title, but my titles still won’t win any awards (or drive much traffic, if I am honest, which I always try to be).
But here’s the thing: this blog, and the recipes I make and share IRL and in this space, reflect my creative practice as it evolves.
This year has been a bit of a revelation for me in terms of seeing myself, finally, as an artist. Part of that is due to a supportive partner who is, himself, an artist. I have not had a romantic partner who has ever seen me in that way. It would be easy to say that they were to blame, or they were unsupportive, but that’s not it.
It was me.
In the last couple years I have been feeling something beneath the surface, like there was this Thing That Was About To Happen. I thought it might be some breakthrough in this blog, or some incredible opportunity or travel experience. Although I have traveled and made some incredible food and had opportunities arise, that wasn’t it.
You know that feeling when someone keeps telling you something about yourself, and you sort of nod and smile, thinking you are agreeing when you actually are only taking it in on the surface, and the largest part of you isn’t all there, agreeing, even as you nod and smile?
That was me when Khristian referred to me as an artist or a creative.
That was me even when I told people I was a writer.
This year, the switch flipped.
I ended 2018 writing a lot for other people. Last year, I wrote the equivalent of five full-length novels for other people (and one novel for myself). This was valuable and good in that it financed some incredible things last year (trips to Amsterdam and Canada, plus a writing retreat and a piece of property in Canada), but at the end of the year, I was tired of writing for other people.
So I cut back, starting in February, and have been working on my own work, my own creative life, since then.
I attended an incredible workshop called Making Your Life As An Artist, set some goals as a result of that workshop, and have been steadily working at them since the workshop.*
I have been working on a real artist mission statement.
I am exploring new media, moving into the visual arts and seeing how that fits with my writing life.
I am submitting to publications, residencies, retreats, and galleries.
I am committing to spending more time IRL with people I care about or want to get to know better, and less time on social media (which sort of screws the whole driving-traffic-to-your-site thing, too, but that’s ok).
I am committing to my work, even as I make less money for other people’s work (but stay open to opportunities there, too).
And good lord. What a difference it has made. I feel energized by my practice and have been pushing past doubt and insecurity. I am still plagued by Imposter Syndrome, but it is a low hum on occasion instead of a daily shout. I find myself trying to figure out a better way to keep track of ideas, and I am exploring how I truly work best (spoiler alert: I am not particularly disciplined).
But let’s be honest (which we should all always try to be). I can still procrastinate like nobody’s business. I still have days when the Call of the Bed is mightier than the Muse. When the roar in my head and the worthless feeling and the anxiety start to creep in the darkness around the edges of my vision, clouding my ability to create much of anything.
Enter procrastibaking (not my word, but apt).
In the last ten days I have felt a bit listless, a bit unsettled. A massive anxiety attack, the first in months, left me feeling wobbly. Even as the visual aspect of my creative practice exploded, my writing has begun to flail a bit.
My simple solution? Bake cakes.
Bake cakes, and give them to people.
Bake cakes, and eat them for breakfast.
Take a long walk with the dog, by the water, then come home and have some cake.
I have made three cakes in the last ten days: a carrot cake, a lemon bundt, and this glorious bastard: the Smith Island cake.
Smith Island cake is Maryland’s state dessert. I blogged about it once on this site but was not impressed by the results of my baking and did not post them (just a blog with some links). Even the person who claims to be THE Smith Island cake master USES A BOXED CAKE MIX (which makes me sick. REALLY? Just makes Maryland bakers look like a bunch of amateurs. But I digress.).
But I was definitely casting about for something to take my mind off of my creative work. And this cake is a good bet. Consisting of eight layers with a nearly-pourable, ganache-like chocolate frosting, it requires, at the very least, a system for baking (unless you happen to have eight, 9-inch layer cake pans. I have two.). You need to time your cakes precisely, and you need to have a little something to occupy your mind in eight-minute intervals while you perform the oven dance of shifting cakes and cooling cakes and lining cake tins. I worked on my artist statement in fits and starts that didn’t allow me to think too deeply about what I was creating (a good thing).
IT IS WORTH IT. This cake was absolutely incredible.
The recipe that inspired it is from Saveur, with some changes. The cake is, as ever, gluten-free, and I swapped out the milk (mostly because I did not have milk and didn’t want to leave the house). Their method seemed ridiculous to me, so I changed that around a bit, too. Read all the way through before you start, then follow the instructions for best results.
Better yet: if you are local, I am now selling a limited number of cakes every month. Made to order and good for at least 12 servings, so you don’t even have to get your hands dirty. Get in touch early in each month, even if you don’t need it until the end, to reserve your spot. More details here.
Otherwise, here’s the recipe for Smith Island cake that will inspire swoons. #Trust
Smith Island Cake
Ingredients
Cake 3 sticks butter, melted and cooled 3 1⁄2 cups all-purpose gluten-free flour 4 teaspoons baking powder 1 1⁄2 teaspoons kosher salt 2 1⁄4 cups sugar Milk: 1/2 cup evaporated milk and 1 1/2 cups oat milk (or just 2 cups whole milk, see Recipe Note) 1 tablespoon vanilla extract 6 eggs
For the Icing 2 ounces unsweetened chocolate 2 ounces semisweet chocolate (I used chips. Hey now.) 2 cups sugar 1 cup evaporated milk 6 tablespoons butter 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Super helpful special tools: parchment paper, baking scale, cake turntable, offset spatula
Method Get ready: Get out two 9-inch cake pans and trace their bottoms on parchment paper. Cut out eight parchment paper circles and set aside. Preheat oven to 350°.
In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. In another large bowl, combine cooled butter, sugar, milks, vanilla, and eggs. Whisk to combine all wet ingredients well.
Add dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and use a whisk to get most of the lumps out of the flour (some will remain).
IMPORTANT: If you use regular flour (not gluten-free, do not overmix. You will develop your gluten, and the cakes will be tough and awful. Whisk until just combined, no more, than proceed).
Allow batter to sit and collect its thoughts for 15 minutes. While it sits, spray your pans with cooking spray, line the bottom with parchment, and spray again. Alternately, you could butter and flour but WHAT A PAIN IN THE ASS.
Stir batter until smooth.
Here’s where it gets technical. I used a baking scale to accurately measure the total weight of the batter and then divided it by eight. This makes your layers even and ensures you actually have eight layers (fewer than that and it’s technically not a Smith Island cake). If you don’t have a scale, each layer has a little over one cup of batter.
Move each cake pan around so the batter spreads evenly over the bottom. Bake for eight minutes, then swap pan position in the oven (left moves right; right moves to the left), and bake for another seven minutes (or until the cake is lightly browned).
Remove from oven and place in the freezer for 10 minutes. Remove cake from pan, and place on a wire rack to cool completely. Re-spray and re-line cake pans, then re-peat for remaining batter. I gave my cake tins a wash and dry after the second layer in each.
Let the layers cool completely before frosting. I started my frosting as I started my 7th layer.
Make the icing: Place chocolates, sugar, evaporated milk (should be the remainder of the can), butter, and vanilla in a high-sided, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring often and watching carefully.
I sort of forgot mine a little and neglected the stirring, but that forgetfulness was brief. I used a whisk to beat until it was smooth and shiny. Remove from heat and cool. I did not find this frosting to thicken much at all, which was absolutely fine. Don’t expect a buttercream texture, but it should be thicker than a glaze.
Cake assembly: Use a cake turntable if you have one. Place one layer on the turntable and top with 1/4 cup of frosting. Use an offset spatula to spread all the way to the edges – the layer of frosting will be thin. Repeat with all layers but leave the top bare (for now).
Place cake in ‘fridge for about 15 minutes, then finish icing. If the icing has gotten too thick to pour, heat slightly, then pour over the top of the cake and use your offset spatula to smooth the sides. The icing on the sides will be thin, but that’s ok. #Trust
Chill cake completely before serving. Serves 12.
Recipe Notes
I am a big fan of using what you have and avoiding excessive trips to the store. I had oat milk and used it rather than buy milk I would not drink. I have not tested this recipe with other milks.
I did not test this recipe with regular flour. As long as you are careful with the mixing, you should be fine.
*Making Your Life As An Artist is a part of ArtistU, and I encourage any creative people out there to take advantage of the class if it rolls into town. Even if you don’t go, they offer their materials for free – a free book and a free workbook. Check them out.
