I don’t get red velvet cake. I never have.
I just don’t see the appeal of slicing into a pristine confectionary delight only to be confronted with an interior of nearly blood-red dessert.
Sure, red is the color of romance, but…seriously? Seriously??? Sanguinary sweets just don’t do it for me, I’m afraid.
On the other hand, before my husband died, he was absolutely addicted to red velvet debauchery. Ned could consume half a cake in the space of twelve minutes, if left to his own devices.
It was certainly a sight to behold, and one that made an episode of CSI look like the Powerpuff Girls in comparison. Crimson streaks smeared across an empty plate – while I was pregnant with Kylie, the sight literally turned my stomach.
After one such incident spent over the porcelain bowl, I begged Ned to desist – at least until after the baby was born.
In return for this chivalrous sacrifice, I baked him a three-tiered red velvet masterpiece a few weeks after Kylie’s birth.
Unfortunately, the results had Ned spending his own time over the porcelain bowl instead. =(
(To discover more about Sadie’s dessert fiascos, check out the novel: Love Finds You in Hershey, Pennsylvania by Cerella D. Sechrist – releasing February 1, 2010.)
