Masterbaking with Napoleon Syndrome: A Recipe for Disaster Part 1

Over the years I've managed to develop quite the reputation for myself as an accomplished cook.  I made my first Thanksgiving Turkey when I was 14 and even before that I have fond memories of standing on a chair stirring sauces and helping my grandma with casseroles.  When I am feeling particularly adventurous I have even been known to make ravioli from scratch.  The one thing I've never managed to wrap my brain around is baking - well with the exception of pre-made cake batter that I can doctor.  I am terrible at baking, but it's not for lack of trying.  Every year at Christmas I try and fail in the baking department, with the exception of macaroons and brownies.  Last year I made an attempt at some sort of rum cookie that came out of my oven looking and tasting like tiny squares of porcelain.  I should have just broke out the paints and sent them to people as Christmas ornaments, or maybe even donated them to our local skeet shooting organization. Thus, I have often stood in my kitchen staring in disbelief at what has come out of my oven; referencing the recipe images and looking back at my atrocities while scratching my head.

Previous success: Stuffed Chicken Breast with Blue Cheese and Bacon-Wrapped Asparagus

  So about a month ago during a trip down to LA, my friend had mentioned that there was this cake he recently had that he wanted me to try and make.  My only response was to point out my ineptitude in the baking department.  Fast forward a month and it is my friend's birthday.  At the moment, I've just returned from a trip to the Bay area for another friend's baby shower, and I paid rent so my abilities to accommodate any sort of birthday gesture were... well limited at best. We made plans for me to throw some goods on the grill and maybe hang out for a bit.  Oh! I'll surprise him by making that cake he was talking about! My spirit jostled with excitement at the thought of embarking on this uncharted kitchen adventure, and at the thought of how impressed my friend would be at not only my memory of our conversation, but at what would surely become my newfound prowess with flour and egg ingredients. I've never been known to have a very good recollection of conversations, names, or faces so it came as no surprise that at the moment I couldn't remember what the hell the cake was.  I think it was a Russian dessert...

Bacon-wrapped-chicken-wrapped cheddarwurst and Bacon-wrapped Filet
(Oh yes, it was amazing)

Google Search: 'russian cake'. There it was, the Russian Napolyeon Cake.  Ahhh yesss... that's what it was.  I remember him saying something about custard... *print recipe*. Upon reviewing the directions it was becoming more and more apparent that my plan had become much larger of an undertaking than the description he gave of this "simple" cake.  Commands like "Stiffly beat two large egg whites," "gently fold 2 cups of flower in by the spoonfull," and "layer the ingredients into a springform pan..." immediately made my furrow my eyebrows and crinkle my nose suspiciously at what I was getting myself into.  What the hell is a springform pan?!  Google search: Springform Pan - Target $8.95 for a set of three miniatures.  Perfect!  I will make individual sized cakes and he can take one home! With a scoff, I blew off the concerns over the complexity and skill level required for the task and a "what could go wrong?" It was all coming together in a beautiful, flawless barrage of imagery in my mind.  I cracked a confident and cunning smile and made my way to the store for my goods.

As I parked the bike outside of Target, a couple of guys who were on break pointed out what a lovely day it is for a ride.  It was, indeed, but there was work to do.  There were hours of preparation for the dough, another hour or so for the custard and then the hours required for my masterpiece to chill and form. There was no time to ride today, I was on a mission.