Parsley, Sage, Desserts and Line Drives

Zebra Cake from 2007, and Part 13B

June 17, 2012 at 11:10 am | Posted in Cakes, Dessert | 78 Comments
Tags: baking, Cake, Chocolate, First Love, vanilla, Zebra Cake

Dear Readers – First off, the above is a transitional header and name (desserts and line drives was too long).  I still haven’t decided where I’m going to go with this, but I got sick of looking at that old header!

Secondly, please excuse these old photos, but love this cake.  Not only is it cool to look at – but it’s moist, delectable and easy to make. Thank you.

Back in January of 2011, my computer crashed.  The hard drive was annihilated.  I lost all of my photos. Some of those photos were of two treats that I mourn to this day.  One was a beautiful Torte Milanese – layers of colorful, roasted vegetables, serrano ham and softly scrambled, herbed eggs encased in golden puff pastry,.  The other was a Gateau Basque, best described as a mix of a cake, cookie and pie, from the Basque region of France, filled with luscious almond pastry cream and homemade cherry jam.  They were both so lovely aesthetically and exquisite in flavor, that I did everything I could with the dead hard drive, bringing it from place to place, to see what they could retrieve from it.

Wouldn’t you know it, they were able to get most everything off of it EXCEPT the Torte Milanese and Gateua Basque.  Why?  Why?  Why?

I still hold on to that drive with the hope that miraculously, someone will be able to find and extract even one photo of each.  The truth is, they were both a little labor intensive, and I haven’t had the time or motivation to really dig into recreating either.  Plus, I don’t often get good photos, but by some stroke of luck, the photos of these two extravagant goodies, including the prep photos, were some of the best I’ve ever taken.  Again..

Why?  Why?  WHY?

Here’s the kicker, a group of photos of a zebra cake I made in 2007, were all there, well, most of them..(some of the prep photos didn’t make it)..in perfect condition.  These photos were from a time before a food blog was even a twinkle in my eye.  Back then, I took quick shots with a point and shoot, under kitchen lighting, and sometimes I used *gasp* a flash.

They were also able to pull these 2009 peanut butter cup brownies off the drive.  One problem, though..just this one photo, when there were originally 10 full size photos, and you can see this one surviving photo had already been cropped for photo site submissions.  You can get the recipe here.

Barring the photo quality, it’s a pretty cool looking cake..so I decided to post it. As I mentioned in my last post..I haven’t had the time to cook or bake anything really blog worthy, unless you consider boiled, boxed pasta with a simple tomato sauce..and sloppy tuna sandwiches on white toast, blog worthy. In other words, I haven’t felt like spending hours sifting through 100 photos of sloppy tuna salad, and then hours of post-processing the best of the bland.

At least the Overnight Oatmeal had a little pizzazz with the use of an almost empty peanut butter jar and the near endless possibilities of add-ins

So, here’s my zebra cake, in all it’s ancient point and shoot glory.  I love the way the stripes came out, and it was quite moist and tasty, therefore – blog worthy.  However, for some reason I cannot recollect nor fathom why I placed the cake slices on top of a cheap cake turntable.  It looks weird. Please look at the cool, zebra stripes, and blur out the weird-looking cake turntable. I’m kinda embarrassed!

I want you all to make this cake and impress everyone you serve it to  It’ll look better on your plate and table than it does in these antiquated photos!

Chocolate and Vanilla Zebra Cake
Makes one 8 or 9-inch cake
Recipe from my scribble scrabble on a piece of paper  – I cannot remember where I found it, but I did make some changes to it at the time.

DIRECTIONS:
1.  Combine the flour, baking powder and salt.  Set aside.

2. If using butter, cream it together with the sugar until light and fluffy.  Add eggs one at a time, until each one is fully incorporated.  Add vanilla extract.   If using oil, beat together the eggs, oil, and sugar until light and fluffy, then add vanilla extract.

3.  Alternate adding the flour mixture with the milk, starting and ending with the flour.  Do not overmix.

I was relieved he was OK.  I debated getting up and talking to him, then decided against it.  I didn’t want to come off as a naggy shrew  – I wanted to trust him.  He had no idea my friend and I were there , since we came over in Coco’s truck.

I pulled the blanket over my head and prayed for sleep again, because I didn’t want to think about why the hell he came home at 5 am.  That was around the time we always stayed out until, the two previous summers.

I woke up at 10 am.  My friend was no longer next to me and the house was eerily quiet.

This was a sign.  Coco’s truck was gone, so apparently they all went somewhere..with his Mother.

His room was the attic…the stairs to it much like those old doors on the ceiling attic stairs, where you pulled them down when you pulled the door open with a chain, but these were permanent, and no door on the ceiling.  I climbed up slowly.

It was if he was expecting me…he opened his eyes and opened his arms.

“Come ‘mere, baby”

I walked over cautiously.. scoping out my surroundings.  No idea what I was looking for, it was just a guy’s room with a big bed, and a hot, shirtless guy in that bed.

“How did you know I was here?”  I asked suspiciously

“Pete (the grunge brother we hung out with) came up to borrow a shirt about 10 minutes ago, said you guys stayed the night, but you were still fast asleep.  I was about to go down and wake you up..I missed you so much”

“Where did they all go?” I asked..not wanting to get too cozy just yet.

“They went out for breakfast – they couldn’t wake you up”

I reached the foot of the bed and let him grab my hands and slide me across it next to him.  He wrapped me up in his warm body. I inhaled him and kissed his chest, neck and lips.  Any naked patch of skin was fair territory.

I forgot all about the night before – until he said..

“So, I hear you threatened to kill two girls if they talked to me”  He was smiling.

WHAT?  I sat up and told him what really happened.  He knew it, though..he was laughing as he told me how the two girls came running up to him claiming his girlfriend was crazy, and had threatened their lives.

I had given them the perfect excuse to talk to him.

“What did you say when they told you that?”, I asked with amusement.

He was getting a kick out of this..a huge smile on his face..laughing more as he continued.  I think he liked the ‘bad girl’ side of me.

“I told them you couldn’t even kill a fly, and I didn’t like liars – I told them they were crazy.  No one is going to bad mouth my girl or make up lies about her.  Now get back here, Killer”

He pulled me on top of him and we had a good laugh for another few minutes.  Then I apologized…

“I’m sorry for saying the things I did last night..I was scared for you, and disappointed that we wouldn’t be together”

“Don’t even give it a second thought, I knew that.  Plus, you’re cute when you’re mad”

We started kissing – he let out a small gasp as I ran my hands down his sides.

I slid off of him, immediately inspecting each side of his torso.  There it was, a fist sized bruise on his left side, below his rib cage, already starting to turn every color of the rainbow.

“What happened??”  I asked.  I felt sick..someone had punched him there.

“Nohing, baby…when the ride was slowing down one of the cars hit me in the side – I got too close”

Bullshit, I thought.  Not to mention there was a bag of weed on his dresser.  Something weed related caused a fight, or maybe Andy’s brother bought him the weed for fighting the guys who were giving him trouble.

“It looks like someone punched you there..hard!!”

He pulled me back down, rolled over on top of me, and pressed his lips against mine, obviously not wanting to elaborate on the situation.

It worked, I was completely immersed in him within a nano-second, like always.  Just as he pulled my shirt off, feet came pounding up his stairs..lots of feet.

“Yo, D!!  What’s up!”

A few of his friends and two of their girlfriends from home had driven down for some beach, and were stopping in on the way.  We had been so caught up in ummm..what we were doing, or trying to do, rather.. plus the radio, that we hadn’t even heard the knocking or the door opening.

I pulled the blanket over my head and put my shirt back on..while they pulled up chairs around the bed.  It felt like they were the audience and the bed was the stage.

Now it just needed an orchestra pit.  This had the makings of the  “The Nutcracker not so Suite”

Diane, one of the girlfriends, scolded all of them..telling everyone to leave us alone..they would stop by later.

But, NOOO..my too nice nature kicked in.  I couldn’t stop it once it started spilling out of my gaping maw, and it was totally disingenuous – I wanted this time with him alone – desperately.

“No, no, no..it’s ok – STAY!  We’re so glad to see you all!  Oh Shiiiiittt.

Dreamboat was expressionless, which meant he was NOT happy with my sweet invitation, which was immediately RSVP’d with a majority ‘will attend’.

SO, we spent the next half hour chatting with them, Dreamboat half under the covers, one hand on my leg while I sat cross-legged on top of the covers.

I looked down at his hand on my leg.  His knuckles were cut and bruised.  Solid proof he had punched someone too.  I ran my hand over those bruised, swollen knuckles, as if my touch could somehow heal them.  I felt sick again.

When they all finally left, his Mom, brother, my friend and Coco pulled up.

It figures.

I ran down the stairs, grabbed a magazine, and sat on the couch.  I didn’t want his Mom to know I’d snuck up there and came close to deflowering his sacred attic bed.

Later on that day, my Auntie Flo decided to come for a visit and stay a few days.

Once again, It figures.

From that moment on, we saw each other every night, but there was one problem, he didn’t like my two best friends.

He didn’t like one because he felt she was leading his brother on – and she was.  She had a habit of getting attached to certain guy friends, and then she would start to crush on them, sometimes even kissing them. Soon she would realize she didn’t want to be with them that way.   However, her continued flirtatious and affectionate manner belied the friendship level – leaving said men confused, but still smitten.

Pete and Coco were both enamored with her.  She was a blonde knock-out, so realistically, on a shallow level, she was out of their league, but her behavior towards them made it seem they had a chance – especially Pete.

Another thing that annoyed him, albeit not as serious, was that she was over his shore house so much, he was getting tired of it…especially since she was eating them out of house and home.  She loved his Mom’s cooking (I did too, and in fact, I referred to her potato salad in a post from last summer – but only ate small portions  It was summer, so the bod came first.  She had the metabolism of a triathlete.), and his Mom loved that she loved it, so she went out of her way for her.  She even let her finish up the last of these amazing homemade Italian sausages that were Dreamboat’s favorites, and he was looking forward to for lunch that day.  I cringed..I really thought he was going to lose it,but, alas, he kept his cool and took me out for a late lunch instead, before work.

My other friend, the one I’ve been calling the raven haired friend, the one who was with me that first summer I met him…the one who hooked up with the hunky monkey…he did not like AT ALL.  He felt she was fake, sneaky in a slightly sociopathic way, and extremely manipulative.  He guaranteed she wouldn’t be my friend by the time I hit 30.  My father said the same about her, as did other men who met and knew us together.

They were right.  What is it that men who love you ‘see’ what you can’t ‘see’ yourself?  I thought she was the bee’s knees at that time.  I saw none of the above for years.

This caused a problem, because I needed to hang out with my friends too, I was also leaving them in a few weeks, they were going to college locally..plus, we had parties at our place a few times.  Of course his brother and Coco were always there, so that didn’t help matters either. He didn’t want to hang with his brother every night.

We started to have little fights.  Without fail, he never raised his voice and was his usual nonchalant self the more upset I got.  There were a few times I couldn’t leave our place because I’d promised I’d stay for the whole party. He would stop in for an hour…then take me outside and tell me he was leaving…asking if I was coming with him.  I wanted to go with him in the worst way, but I couldn’t just dump them, so I’d beg him to stay another hour.

This would go on for a while…reducing me to tears.  A constant tug-of-war.  Sometimes I left with him..sometimes I let him go.  Either way, someone was always upset with me.

He was the only person who could make me cry, whether it be ‘going to miss him’ crying,or ‘upset with him’ crying.  Not to mention those tears of happiness that struck like lightning the summer we reconnected.  I had morphed into a public sobber. Gone were the days when tears were only allowed out in the confines of my bedroom, alone, especially while watching sad movies or commercials about cruelty to animals, and, of course, that whole year missing him.

To make matters even worse…a bunch of guys staying across from us in the complex..who happened to be from a town 10 minutes from us, were always hanging out in our apartment too.  One of them liked me..liked me enough to ask Dreamboat’s brother about my relationship with him, gauging the temperature of it.  He was very confident and brazen, making his feelings for me very well-known.  Of course..this was ‘disrespecftful’ to Dreamboat, and it finally culminated into a huge fight breaking out between the guys across from us…some guys upstairs, and some guys who were visiting someone else in the complex.

It all started with Dreamboat talking quietly with ‘Gary’, the guy who was interested in me…asking him politely to stop chasing me since I was in a relationship with him.  Suddenly, Coco said something to one of Gary’s friends, who made a comment about no one being anyone’s property.  Within minutes, threats were flying like spitballs in a 5th grade classroom..then a few pushes,..and finally, punches landing.

The sound of gasps, grunts, and fists hitting skin, combined with  girlfriends and girl friends screaming for it to stop, and lots of cursing, was deafening.

Ironically, Gary and Dreamboat weren’t part of this altercation.  I had Dreamboat blocked in a corner of the courtyard by then – arguing about staying or leaving (anything to keep him from fighting).  Soon we made up and were hugging and smooshing as this weird rumble went on around us.

My raven haired friend made fun of this scene for years after. A crazy brawl all over the place..but off to the side, in a corner, me and Dreamboat, encapsulated in our little love bubble.

Of course Dreamboat soon stepped in to help break it up once he saw his brother was involved, which led to another funny scenario.

The fight was still in full swing..Dreamboat and others pulling bodies off of one another..while my raven-haired friend and I stood there watching.  Suddenly we hear ‘Hey, how ya doin?” from up above.  We looked up to see two guys leaning over the balcony, looking down at us.  They started hitting on us..in a very casual and sweet way.

“Where are you girls from?”  “How long are you here for?”  “We’ve seen you around a lot, you seem like really nice girls” “Wanna to hang out with us..hit the boardwalk, maybe?”

Not one mention of this huge melee smack dab in the middle of the complex right below them..and they couldn’t miss it if they tried.  It was so bizarre.

Dreamboat came walking over and grabbed my hand.

“Let’s go, sweetheart, I’ve had enough of this place”

So had I.

I spent all of the remaining summer nights/early mornings with him.  I was sick of the parties, sick of the noise, all,night.long, sick of everyone just walking in and out of each other’s apartments day and night, whenever they felt like it.

It was Animal House, but without John Belushi – although there was a guy who kind of looked like him, and was kind of funny, but still, he was no John Belushi.

The summer before, we were on the top floor, without a balcony, in the back, so the noise and hoopla wasn’t too bad.  This summer, we were on the bottom level, facing the courtyard – giving up moments of peace and quiet for a bigger, better apartment.

The straw that broke the camel’s back occurred one early morning, after Dreamboat dropped me off. I fell asleep on the couch in the kitchen (this place was big on couches in kitchens).  The next day at the beach, I noticed people leaning over and looking at the back of my legs as I walked by.  I sat back down on our giant beach blanket and lifted one leg up, twisting to see what they were looking at.

My friend and Coco came in drunk that morning.  Seeing I was fast asleep (I sleep like a rock..I can even sleep with the TV blasting), they channeled a naughty, foul-mouthed Picasso – a brown eyeliner,their brush, the back of my legs, a blank canvas.

Yeah, it was funny..especially their artists’s rendition of the proverbial twig and berries, with an arrow pointing you know where, but I’d had enough..I wanted the last week and a half with him – no more Animal House evenings until sunrise.  I spent all day, every day, except his occasional day off, with the girls, anyway – until midnight.

With each sunrise and sunset, it got closer to the day we’d say goodbye.  We spent a lot of nights at our favorite secluded beach, sometimes watching the sun rise from the lifeguard chair, which he’d hoist me up on.  Sometimes we’d go to his shore house and he’d sneak me up to his room..where we’d spend the night, then pretend I just popped over in the morning, before his Mom woke.

Words were hard to come by as the day came closer.  We were both sad, and at times, for brief moments, he was almost cold.  I could tell he was numbing himself from the pain, so I never said a word, but – the impending separation heightened the tenderness between us, so we barely needed words.  We were pretty much avoiding the topic as best we could.  He told me he had spoken to his Father about this..since he was having such a hard time dealing with it..

He tried to keep his voice even-toned and upbeat “My Dad said unless I put a ring on your finger, I had no right to ask you to not date anyone.”

I hugged him “I don’t need a ring, I don’t want anyone but you”

Suddenly reality hit like a cement roadblock I didn’t see coming, and there was no time to slow down and stop. This man was gorgeous, how could he not date anyone when he probably wouldn’t see me until Thanksgiving, and that was only for a week or less?  I was sure I could do it, but could he?

I started to cry.  Oh look, I’m crying again…what a surprise!  Now that my tears had a taste of being ‘out’, they couldn’t stop coming ‘out’.

The night before I was leaving the shore to go home and pack, then leave the next day for Boston, was finally upon us.  Labor Day Weekend had passed and Seaside was emptying quickly..families packing up their cars, the streets desolate, the boardwalk more of a whisper than a shout.  There was nowhere better to spend our last night than at ‘our beach’ again.

We sat on the blanket..me between his legs, leaning back against chest, his arms around me, chin on my shoulder.  His classic rock station played softly in the background, our drinks remained untouched.  We didn’t talk….just watched the ocean for a while.  I looked up at the stars, wishing for more nights with him..the thought of leaving him was becoming unbearable.  To phrase it in half-witted, daffy Jersey Shore speak – we smushed, (corn alert) then fell asleep in each other’s arms, under a blanket – beneath a blanket of glittery stars.

When we woke up, around 6 am, we walked slowly to his car.  I forgot to mention in the previous entry that he had picked up an old, used Mazda RX7 for cheap a month before.  There was no knob or padded cover on the stick shift, so he would use his palm – pushing it – to change gears.  It was sexy to me..but almost everything he did was sexy to me.

He pulled up to the front of the complex..and again, we just sat there for a while, in silence.  It wasn’t awkward, but it was certainly heart-wrenching.  I told him I’d stop by the house before I left.  He nodded and hugged me..inhaling me.  I liked when he did that.  He said he never wanted to forget how good I smelled, until we saw each other again.

Ahhh..touche.  Like animals, we always know the scent of our mates – we’ve just evolved enough to not sniff each other’s tushies.

After a few kisses..he left. I watched him drive away, then walked to our apartment to finish packing.  My face was soaked.  I hadn’t even felt the tears coming on this time.

When we got to his house later on…it was about 1 pm.  I walked up the attic stairs. He had just woken up and was putting his laundry away in the drawers.  He turned around and gave me a quick peck, then went back to putting away his laundry.  My heart sank.. it was breaking..I could barely speak.

“I’m leaving now, baby”

He didn’t turn around, just mumbled “I know”

I wrapped my arms around him from behind..then made him turn around to face me..he was acting so cold.

He stiffened as I hugged him.  Now I was really upset..and the damn tears came fast.  I think I had shed enough  tears that summer to create a new ocean.  The Sea of Sappy Sorrow..don’t swim in it….if you do, every little thing will make you cry, like Lisa!

I didn’t know what to do, so I kept hugging him..burying my face in his neck..telling him how much I loved him, asking him why he was being so cold.  He finally relaxed and hugged me back hard…kissing my neck, then whispering..

“I’m losing my girl, how do you expect me to be?”

“No, you’re not, I’ll call you every day..I’ll be home at Thanksgiving..I’ll..”

He stopped my blabbering with a kiss.

A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
-Ingrid Bergman

When the kiss broke…I asked him to take off his T-shirt and give it to me.  It was a light blue T-shirt with a picture of Rocky and Bullwinkle on it.  He’d slept in it, so his amazing, intoxicating scent I loved so much, was all over it, and I wanted to smell him for as long as it lasted, until Thanksgiving.  He took it off and gave it to me.  I hugged him again..not wanting to let go.  His brother Pete’s voice interrupted us. He was driving home with us.  Our other friend, now known as the raven-haired sociopath, had gone home with her boyfriend the day before.

“Come on, we gotta get goin'”  My friend had a family thing she needed to get to.

Dreamboat released me from his arms.  I quickly took his hands in mine and squeezed.  I didn’t know what else to say,  so I said something that had been bothering me for a while;

“Please stay safe, please don’t fight anymore – I saw those bruises on your knuckles 3 weeks ago, I know you didn’t get that bruise from the ride”

He sniffed in deep.  I looked up, his eyes were red and watery..he was crying  but trying hard not to.  He tried to pass it off as something else..

“Damn,  there must be pollen or some kind of dust in the air”

He didn’t have allergies.

I let go of his hands…and turned to leave. The third step down…he appeared at the top of the stairs..

“I love you, killer”

I choked out “I love you too”,  then ran down the remaining steps, out the door, and into the car, clutching his T-shirt to my chest.

I sat in the backseat the whole way home, holding his T-shirt, sporadically pressing it against my face and inhaling…then stopping because I didn’t want to cry anymore.

When I got home..laundry was done and then 4 hours  of packing for college.  I may as well just have had my whole bedroom transported to Boston, because I was taking everything.  When all the packing was done, I gently pulled his T-shirt over the head of a large, stuffed teddy bear he bought me, placed it on top of my trunks and suitcases, then plopped down on my bed.

It was now around 7 pm, I wouldn’t hear from him until after midnight.  I felt lonely, then overwhelmed at the thought of not seeing him for almost 12 weeks.

Nobody was around to talk to.  One friend was with her BF, the other at her family gathering.  Other friends had already left for college.

The phone rang.  I picked it up.  “Hello?”

“Lisa?” a male voice asked

“Yes?”

“It’s Gary”

Part 14 coming soon.