There really isn't a question there. At least, not for me. If given the opportunity to bake-- I will do it. In a heartbeat. Without hesitation. Aside from teaching the Muttley Crew new tricks, and cuddling with Nearly Husband, it is my absolute favorite thing to do in the whole wide world.
This is probably why I get asked to bake things quite frequently. Sometimes it's requests from family, or a favor for a friend, and occasionally I even get paid to make things. Really, baking makes me happy. That kind of deep down, warm-all-over, utterly contented kind of happy. I don't even eat most of the things I bake (I am, regretfully, a ridiculously picky eater), but seeing others enjoy what I've made is enough.
Now, Grandpa John is in the habit of getting cinnamon rolls from the Senior Center every week. To be perfectly honest, it's not just a habit anymore, it's become a part of The Routine. May God help you if you are responsible for putting a wrench in Grandpa John's Routine. (It's so serious it even comes with it's own capital R.) With his complete devotion to The Routine, he becomes quite agitated when he can't get cinnamon rolls. And we have just begun a three week stint of no cinnamon rolls. In fact, these next couple of months play utter havoc with The Routine in general. Post Office closing randomly in the middle of the week (okay, so it isn't random, it just feels that way), companies holding funny holiday hours, the golf course (where he used to play golf, but now just sits in the clubhouse with the other Town Elders playing cribbage and pitch) closes-- MY GOD! Not the golf course! But, yes. Sadly, even the golf course is susceptible to the Thanksgiving-New Years disturbance.
The point is the cinnamon rolls. When he can't get the Senior Center cinnamon rolls, mine will have to do. They aren't a part of The Routine, but a cinnamon roll is a cinnamon roll in hard times. Any roll in a storm, or something. I guess you can't always afford to be picky. Luckily there are people who LOVE the rolls I make, and who don't treat my beautiful, handcrafted rolls like second best. Yesterday, for Grandpa John, I made a pan of cinnamon rolls. But, for other people who love me and those delightful cinnamon rolls, I made a further five pans. People, you're welcome. (And you're all doubly welcome for not having to suffer Grandpa John's wrath when he has to start his morning by deviating from The Routine!) They turned out, I believe, pretty good. I tried one. It was satisfactorily mouth-watering. I might even go so far as to call it "Yummy" or "Scrumptious" but since I'M the one who made them, that might be pushing it a bit far. (But they were!)
Today I took Mom out to see Miss Belle (she was looking lovely, as always), and we bought her some apple-and-oat treats, because, I mean, c'mon. Who doesn't love spoiling an adorable, sweet, lovey equine?
And then... I made an experimental cake. It's ingredients included cake flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, eggs, vanilla, and heavy cream. I was, I must admit, intrigued. No milk? No water? No oil? or butter? or sour cream? Not even cream cheese? Are you sure? So, in order to find out what this bizarre conglomeration is like--I made it. It's presently cooling on a wire rack.
I know what you're going to say. Bug, it doesn't look suspicious.
Don't be fooled! This cake doesn't have any liquid ingredients other than a couple of eggs and heavy cream. HEAVY CREAM, people! I will dust it with some powdered sugar, and whip up (haha) some homemade whipped cream... and we'll see. We'll. Just. See. About. THIS.
And then this happened and it made the whole day completely perfect:
Now... on to that suspect cake!