And I’m 30, and I really don’t care. In fact, I’d like to flaunt it. 30, and flirty, and thriving, right?
So, my life this past week has been utterly insane and I’m reeling from all the insanity and struggling to keep my head above the water, so to speak. We had a bonfire on Sunday afternoon/evening (I’ll post about that later) and it was loads of fun but also loads of work and I made probably enough food to feed three times the people that showed up. I’m not complaining; we had very good attendance, but I think we’ll be eating Brasilian rice the rest of our lives.
Anyway, due to that, I haven’t slept well in about a week. I think too much while preparing for things and then I think too much afterwards. So. Much. Stimulation. And when I don’t get enough sleep, I begin to get incredibly irrational about everything, and life is miserable and there are lots of tears and everything is disaster and nuclear bombs and despair.
So I almost didn’t make myself a cake because I was feeling so low, but then I decided I would, because why not, even though I’ve been cooking a lot and I’m sick to death of the kitchen and I already have at least 3 kinds of cookies in large bags in the freezer and I’m kind of sick of sugar. Yes, me, sick of sugar.
So I made myself a cake. I call it the Minstrel Boy in Prison Cake. If you don’t get the reference, keep reading and you’ll get some hints later on.
I’m very picky when it comes to carrot cakes. I’ve tried a lot of recipes for them and while they’re all pretty good, the one I grew up with is still my favourite. It has all the elements I consider essential for a carrot cake, not the least of which is CRUSHED PINEAPPLE omnomnom.
So, let’s interject my mom’s carrot cake recipe here, veganised.
The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you’ll find him;
His father’s sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
“Land of Song!” cried the warrior bard,
“Tho’ all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy right shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!”
The Minstrel fell! But the foeman’s chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov’d ne’er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said “No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav’ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!
Now, if you still don’t get it, read the poem carefully and go back and look at the cake again.
And finally, here is a picture of a seriously awesome birthday present for you to enjoy looking at.
Oh yes I will. Expect recipes with pinenuts (that you can sub sunflower seeds for) in the future. *rolls around in the culinary gold that is pine nuts*