APPLE PI BAKER WAITING FOR RECIPE IDLE HOW TO
I was trying to figure out how to warm brandy without cooking the flammable alcohol off, and of course putting a lit match to a cup of alcohol is terrifying (I rather like my eyebrows and also my home. Wait, was this… easy?īirthday candle time arrived and the lights were dimmed while everyone waited for this masterpiece to emerge from the kitchen, my husband and I were frantically watching YouTube videos on our phones about how to flambé a dessert because - like everything else in parenting and also probably life - we had no idea what we were doing. Plus, I learned you can frost it and freeze it hours and more before you need it, meaning that it was easy to get a lead on this. The frosting is just a meringue and we’ve totally got that down.
Many recipes either had you either make a cake from scratch or box mix or use a storebought pound cake, but we here have a fondness for frozen brownies (extra chewy and fudgy!) and my favorite recipe is one-bowl and so I made that instead. The joke was on me because I bet you know what came next, don’t you? “Mom, can you make me one of these for my birthday?” “Sure?” įast-forward a couple months and boom, his birthday week was here and somehow I hadn’t gotten far on this beyond thinking, what did I get myself into? I started looking at recipes that involved homemade ice cream and that’s great and all if you wish but as my son is perfectly happy with a good old-fashioned chocolate-vanilla-strawberry trifecta from the store, I decided to save my energies. And so we ordered it and I tried to warn him that they might not do the fire thing and maybe it won’t be as cool as I made it sound and then this happened.Īnd don’t worry, I didn’t, like, text my husband the video and say “You can probably quit now because I just won at Dinner With Jacob” or anything unbecoming and immature like that, nope nope nope. “Well, son,” I began because let’s not even pretend I don’t live for this kind of stuff, “It’s a dessert in which ice cream is wrapped in cake and then covered in a marshmallow-y frosting that’s toasted and then they light it on fire…” “CAN WE GET ONE OF THOSE?” Look, I don’t know what stuff you’re made of, but I consider telling a 6 year-old that ice cream wrapped in cake, frosting and fire exists but not for them is cruel and unusual punishment.
On one of my evenings, he pointed to the top of one of the many mirror-covered walls at the restaurant with the menu scrawled over it and said “What’s a Baked Alaska?” Over the summer, my husband and I took turns taking our son out for dinner one a week night to give him a break from (I mean, not to point fingers or anything) the occasional yelling/food-flinging dinnertime antics of The Interloper, a.k.a.
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