Cake balls, that is!
Our church is holding a community yard sale this coming weekend to raise money to support a weekly ministry to the needy and homeless in the downtown core. I offered to organize a bake table.
What was I thinking? Or as Hubby would ask “were you thinking?” Yes, I was thinking that there are probably others out there, like me who go to church bazaars and Farmer’s Markets for the home-baking!
Unforunately the response of local bakers to help me hawk their wares has been underwhelming, to say the least, and not being one to back down from a challenge, I have been experimenting with new recipes and tucking the “not so disastrous” results in the freezer. I eat the disasters and my bathroom scales reflect my rate of success.
On Saturday, I let myself be talked into trying cake pops! I diligently took notes during the youtube video. I went to 3 different stores, in 2 different towns, to get my supplies – cake mix, icing, chocolate wafers, sticks, sprinkles. How hard could this be?
First, I baked my rainbow chip cake, cooled it, cut off the edges and scalped the top. I enlisted Little Guy to break it up. Then I added the icing. The first bowl was perfect. The second bowl ended up with the baby cereal, or cat vomit (how I’ve come to know this is a long story involving a barn cat, a chicken…it’s a long story)! The more I (wo)man-handled those balls (and I was not gentle), the more moist they became…
I added icing sugar and put it in the fridge to set…now it was cold rainbow chip cat vomit.
So my Mom made a 911 call to her cousin, who is a fabulous baker. While they enjoyed a lovely visit, my Aunt Mary, who was enjoying the show from a safe distance and sharing in the banter, went out and returned with a store-bought coconut pound cake. I used most of it to firm up my soft balls…
My Grandmother fell and I spent most of Sunday with my Mom at the hospital, so nobody touched my 60 frozen balls.
On Monday, I decided I should play with my frozen balls before trying to get my balls safely home on a 3 hour road trip. I pulled 3 out and let them thaw, while I melted a bowl of red velvet chocolate wafers.
We murdered Little Guy’s first ball in the bowl of congealing blood-red chocolate. I had to pry it out piece by sticky piece. He licked the bowl clean any way.
I managed to stab my first ball and coat it with tacky chocolate, before it slid down the stick before breaking in two. Same with the third ball. By now my heart had sunk and split too.
Finally, I melted some pink chocolate and pulled out two more frozen balls from the freezer. I coated each one using only my fingers, and sprinkled them profusely before the chocolate melted.
They taste pretty good. But Oh, Balls…cake balls! What to do with the other 55!
Chocolate doesn’t ask silly questions. Chocolate understands.