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baking with abandon

I baked a few cakes in my past.

My mother made the best and pret­ti­est cakes. I held the beater over the sim­mer­ing dou­ble boiler for the full seven min­utes, watch­ing the hot syrup and egg whites turn into a cloud of good­ness.  It was worth the stand­ing, first on one leg than the other, to watch the peaks and swirls sculpted onto the cake.  Flow­ers from her won­der­ful gar­den always sur­rounded the cake. Con­tinue read­ing