The Gingerbread That Normalized Imperfection
A bold mix of spices.
Why This Cake Had To Come First
I chose the Not-For-Children Gingerbread Bundt Cake to begin the series because it was holiday time, and what says holidays like gingerbread? For me, gingerbread is mostly symbolic, reminiscent of childhood when my mom would make a gingerbread house for Christmas. The scent of the warm spices filling every corner of our little farmhouse gave a sense of coziness and safety.
Then the decorating came—candies of varied sizes, shapes, and colors, some with the sparkle of sugar coating. Oh, how I loved watching and helping my mom with her creative ventures in the kitchen. These were the happy times. These were the moments of sweetness, figuratively and literally, that have stuck with me throughout life— the things that take me to a warm, fuzzy place.
Mixing Bold Flavors (and a Little Doubt)
The making: the recipe description says “not for the faint of heart,” and it delivered on that. In fact, as I was mixing the coffee and molasses together, two bold ingredients themselves, I was actually wondering if this was a mistake. Additionally, the surprise ingredient in this spice-rich confection was black pepper. There was nothing faint about this recipe.
The Brandy Glaze That Stole the Show
The glaze for this cake was magnificent! When I opened the bottle of brandy, a waft of it reminded me of something nostalgic. No, it wasn’t Grandma’s breath at Christmas, although that would have been funny. We didn’t have alcohol in our house when I was growing up, with the exception of two bottles of brandy under the kitchen counter. Certainly years old—one was apricot and one blackberry.
It’s funny how memories work. I’m over fifty years old. I can’t remember what I did five minutes ago, but I still remember those two bottles of booze under the counter in an otherwise dry home. I’m sure my mom never knew, but I used to open them and just take a whiff. I don’t really know why I was drawn to two lonely bottles of brandy, but that’s something else I relate to my mom’s kitchen and the smell took me back.
Returning to the glaze itself— it was sort of a boozy caramel when infused with the brandy. As a side note, in true-to-me form, I slopped the brandy on my beautiful, new cookbook. Does that make me The Boozy Baker? Well, it wouldn’t look like a cookbook worth using if it stayed pristine.
When the Cake Didn’t Look the Part
The final product: the cake was a disaster! Let me explain. If you like gingerbread, this cake was dark and mysterious, moist and dense, with a deep, sweet molasses flavor and cozy spiciness. The glaze made it so rich and decadent. Maybe that’s what I should have led with.
The disaster was how it looked, and that was my fault. I observed the 20-minute wait time to remove it from the Bundt pan; however, I’m not a newbie. I should have realized that it really needed more cooling. It sort of looked like a pile of clumped dirt. Of course that’s my fate—a “failed” dessert for my New Year’s party and debut of my vintage cake series.
I’m a firm believer in taste over appearance, so it was still proudly served to my friends at my New Year’s Dinner. I don’t know if gingerbread is a special thing in Canada, but my Canadian friend seemed to enjoy it and even had seconds. That is a win!
A visual failure, but delicious result.
The Transcend Moment: Perfection is a Lie
My take: what a befitting start to a new year! Why? This was my reminder. After a year of working on releasing perfection as a lie and a dream-squelcher, this cake served as a metaphor that life can be imperfect (and should), but still delicious. Former Elaine would be embarrassed to share a photo of this mess, but Rewired Elaine recognizes trying is better than not trying and and a “failure” is actually an opportunity.
As we move forward in the new year, let us seek delicious moments that feed our souls with gratitude and opportunities, not perfection.