Tiramisu Cake Duo: aka BAM

WARNING: I am extremely sarcastic and while most who know me are very aware of this, it does not translate well when used in online forums. The greatest compliment I've ever received was that my deadpan is reminiscent of Bill Murray's. Now imagine trying to read his blog about baking. I hope you get the point.

With that out of the way, there is a girl I know who is all right. I am sure I could do better as far as friends go, but I'm lazy and it's purely a matter of convenience. So she comes to me with this recipe and says, and I quote, "Oh baking goddess of the northern United States, please guide me in making a Tiramisu Cake as I feel emotionally and intellectually ill-equipped to perform such a task. If you do this, I will forever be in your debt." So I decide to help her out of pity. Not because she's my friend. No way.

Let the cake adventure begin!

We first began by making the espresso syrup and concentrate, mainly her tasks since I was sure she'd accidentally spit in it or something. She's gross and spits on things. So anyway, here is a picture of her hand doing the things:

Notice how her hands shake with anxiety over the simplest task...

She continued making the concentrate while I made the cake batter, a very simple task so I spent much of the time taking pictures of her as she struggled. Here is more evidence:

 

Still shaking and hiding her face in fear. Fear of what, though? Failure? Of this I am sure. Back to the god damn point, there's the concentrate. We weren't able to find espresso powder, which is what the recipe called for and this lead to what you'll find to be my one gripe with this cake. Before that can happen though, I must continue to degrade whatsherface.

As proof that I did in fact do something for this cake, here you can see the cake itself with the extra added perk of an owl shape baked into one of the two made. There were actually two layers, but only one displayed my awesome abilities of baking assorted avian shapes into things at random.

Sometimes I stare in the mirror for hours looking at my face in awe of my skills and stunning beauty.

Then came the time to ice the cake, something that who-the-hell-is-that did surprisingly well. We made the icing ourselves with everyone taking turns at whipping the cheese and heavy cream. Seeing as I had to yet get a mixer, this was an arduous task and resulted in comments about my "guns" from the girl I keep talking about. Clearly she has yet to learn basic social skills, something at which I fault her greatly.

Before and after being dusted with cocoa powder, the deliciousness was close at hand.

Looks good right? Well we were all so excited about this that we decided to put on some David Bowie and dance.

There she is, looking down at the ground in shame of her inability to dance, interact with animate objects, and sweat. The other two are great though and really outshine her in every way. They are just great company and so I fed them the cake after I convinced her it was time for me to go to bed. Here are the cake's innards.

So here is my gripe: the cake was pretty dry. The espresso, being regular and not powder, I think lead to the syrup not infusing properly into the cake. Even after sitting overnight, it still was delicious frosting with some pretty dry cake that didn't balance out. I would make this again, but only if I had access to the espresso powder and I would definitely make it with Whatsherface. She's a great sport, a good friend, and always a joy to be around. She should really work on the sweating thing though. Her B.O. is out of control.

Pie Hands

Looking through one of my favorite recipe sites, Smitten Kitchen, I found a recipe for something I learned is technically trademarked; Pop-Tarts. While the recipe I used is not copyrighted, the name is and so I chose to go with the alternative of Pie Hands. It really makes sense once you think of it. It's a tart that you can pop in a toaster. Seeing as that makes it just a hand-held pie, I decided to go with the shifty name of Pie Hands. I've made these three times and each time they've been both delicious and better than the pre-made option. How could they not be? They're ridiculously easy. It's like taking all of the challenge out of making pies.

And right in front of a bag of peanuts. As you can see from the list of ingredients, this really is a simple recipe. All you have to do is take your favorite pie dough recipe, cut it into the right proportions, and add some filling along with an eggwash so the layers adhere to each other. It is a bit tedious since it takes a while to make only a few, but it's still extremely simple.

What the hell is a "Hand of Buddha" and why did I pay $4 for it?!

This is what my pie dough looks like before I get all handsy with it. As you can see, I don't use shortening. Substituting with butter, aka the traditional way, results in a flakier and tastier dough. Trust me on this. I know I'm right.

Here is what it looks like after I've had my way with it. At this point, the dough should look like it has little peas of butter and flour mixed together. It won't be perfect, so don't worry about that like I did the first time. Just get your hands in there and do your thing. There isn't a picture of this after I added the egg and milk seeing as my hands were thoroughly covered in dough and I do somewhat value my shitty point and shoot.

After rolling out the dough, you want to cut out a square that is 9x12. You then cut it into 3x4 rectangles that are the tart-no, pie of the Pie Hands.

Rulers are fun again!

So there is something else I do with these that makes them better than what you can get in the store; I use Nutella. If you have to ask why, then you've never had it and should remedy the situation immediately.

MmmmMMMMMmmm. The downside of this recipe is that it only makes about 9 Pie Hands and it's debatable whether or not it's worth it considering the time involved in making them, most of which is spent measuring out the rectangles. Still, they are really good. For this batch I also made a simple syrup and sugar glaze per the request of those who frequent my home. I do not like glazes, so harrumph.

NIBBLE!