My "Next" Kitchen Purchase - A Blowtorch

While I know the purpose of this blog is not to review restaurants or tell you about meals I ate, I had a dining experience so mind-blowing recently that I just HAVE to share here. I had the privilege (and luck) of getting a ticket to the restaurant Next. For those of you who don't live in Chicago or read food blogs, Next is a new restaurant concept from Grant Achatz and Nick Kokonas, the managing partners of Alinea. Alinea, currently ranked the best restaurant in North America and sixth in the world, is known for its creative presentation and deconstruction of classic flavors and is touted as breaking the way for the next modern food movement. While Alinea is still young and hot, mad culinary genius Achatz and his business partner Kokonas brainstormed a new dining concept, which became Next.

You cannot make a reservation for Next. You cannot call Next. Instead, Next operates under a ticketing system not unlike the theater or a concert - you purchase a ticket for dinner at a certain date/time. Sounds easy enough. Except it's not. To receive notification of when tickets become available, you submit your email to their website. And the waitlist for those notifications is hundreds of thousands of people long (that's my estimate - I know that when I signed up initially about a month before it opened last April, I was 20,000-25,000th in line). Even if you get the email notification, you have to go to the site ASAP, as tickets sell out in seconds. So not easy at all - more like impossible.

Luckily, they also reserve some tables to post for same-day seating or random future dates on their Facebook page. This is also still a mad dash, as tons of people check constantly for this posting. However, my friend Colleen was lucky enough to be one of these winners, and invited me as her foodie friend that would be most appreciative and excited about the experience. So wise of her.

Next strives to be fine dining, but not stuffy. The concept is a three month-long menu that takes the diner to a specific place and time. Going along with the idea that the restaurant is more like a theater presentation, the place settings and table decor change for each menu, and the waitstaff plays along to round out the experience. The dining room is dimly lit, small (62 seats), and not notably decorated, which I believe allows the restaurant to adapt to each menu theme, as well as lets the food take a starring role. The first menu, "Paris 1906 - Escoffier at the Ritz," captured the cuisine of legendary French chef Auguste Escoffier at his restaurant in the Ritz Carlton Hotel (of which he was a founding partner) in Paris 1906. The second menu, "Tour of Thailand," took diners through Next's interpretations of everything from Thai street food to an upscale dinner (the specific time and place of this one is kind of lost on me). The current menu, which is in its final days, is titled "Childhood" and can be described as "Michigan 1985" (or even Midwest 1980s), capturing the youths of both Achatz and chef Dave Beran. After being seated, they handed us this pamphlet, which explained the chefs' inspiration:



Outside of pamphlet.

Inside: Childhood explained.

What "Childhood" means is artfully prepared comfort food evoking the nostalgia Generation Y remembers from childhood meals. But I'm not just talking about dressed up versions like we often see at restaurants, such as mac 'n cheese with gourmet cheeses and add-ins. Rather, these courses were deconstructed, disguised, clever, and playful, appealling to adult wonder and naivete as a means of pulling out our inner child. Presentations often conjured specific scenes, and servingware gimmickry portrayed eating through the eyes of a child. The only not so "Childhood" thing about the experience was the option to add pairings (unless you were a nugget lush), which we heard were a must. We were given the option between domestic pairings or international; we chose domestic to keep the theme of an American meal.

Let's jump into the real thing -  a course-by-course description:

1.  PB&J

We were not told this course was PB&J; rather, we were presented with a "present," a small wrapped box, because "everyone likes to open presents." We were instructed to open (do not shake), place the item in our mouths, close our eyes, and figure out what the flavors remind us of. Colleen and I carefully unwrapped to find a small fried-looking ball sitting on a bed of chopped peanuts. We placed the ball in our mouths, closed our eyes, and bit into it. The tempura-like shell instantly gave way to a hot stream of sweet, fruity jelly, followed by quite possibly my most favorite salty flavor ever - peanut butter. The actual composition was liquefied roasted peanuts and pomegranate jelly, and the entire bite was so delicious that Colleen and I instantly lamented we didn't have a bowl full of those crispy, sweet-and-salty balls. The liquor pairing, which had a cherry flavor, complemented the sweet/salty combination nicely. There's no way they'd start the meal with the best course, so we knew great things were coming our way.

2.  Chicken "Noodle" Soup

Pre-broth.

This next dish was unimpressive upon arrival: a huge bowl containing only celery, carrots, shallots, herbs, and noodles. Then, the server came and explained this was chicken "noodle" soup, complete with noodles made of chicken and a chicken-butter mousse to stir around in the chicken broth that he poured into each of our bowls. We took our oversized spoons and ladled in. The depth of the broth was unlike anything I've ever had, and the melted-in mousse created a silken texture that made me wonder why I've never added butter to soup before (um, because it makes you fat...?). The noodles, though composed of chicken, amazingly had the same consistency as the slippery noodles found in a can of Campbell's. And here was the first example of clever servingware: the oversized bowl and spoon made you suddenly feel little again, and apparently slurping was encouraged, although I didn't do it - just tipped my bowl to get the last of that amazing broth (I'm sure my etiquette-minded mother is gasping right now). Now Colleen and I said that we wanted a basket full of PB&J balls AND large bowls of the chicken noodle soup.

With the delicious broth.

3.  Fish 'n Chips

The next course played to several aspects of childhood: stick figure drawings and playing with your food. Titled "Fish 'n Chips," the plate comes out depicting a drawing of a stick figure fishing under a sunny sky. Every component of this plate makes up what we know as fish 'n chips. The stick figure was drawn with balsamic reduction. He is standing on a beach of a crumbly mixture that is beer batter chips and herbs over top tartar sauce, with some malt vinegar sea foam splashing his feet. From a sea of pickled cucumbers, the fisherman catches a tender piece of walleye covered in a fried russet potato "net." A meyer lemon coulis sun shines overhead. We were instructed to taste all the individual elements, then put them together as we liked - to "play with our food." To recreate how I would actually eat the fish in fish 'n chips, my favorite bites were typically a touch of lemon coulis (squeezed lemon), a scraping of tartar sauce and crumbs (tartar sauce and the fried coating of the fish), a cucumber (the relish in tartar sauce), and a piece of fish (...the fish). For "chips" I liked the malt vinegar foam with a bit of the potato net. I didn't really understand where the balsamic fit in, but I ate it anyway. While it was really delicious and extremely creative, I think the dish suffered a bit at the whimsy of it all, as it was overall difficult to eat. But if my biggest complaint is that I found it hard to keep the desired components on my fork all at once, I'll shut up now.

Additionally, the wine pairing for the last two courses, a Pinot gris, was very crisp and refreshing -  a nice start.

4.  Mac & Cheese

Before server lifted the cylinder.

Upon presentation, I wasn't quite sure what this course was. A glass cylinder sat in the middle of the plate, circled by random bits of food. The server played along, asking us what we thought it was before lifting the cylinder to allow the contents to flood the plate. My suspicions were confirmed - mac & cheese! Noodles in a rich Wisconsin (I think?) cheddar sauce spread to the surrounding accoutrements, which were explained as covering the gamut of everyone's favorite mac 'n cheese mix-ins growing up. There was a prosciutto and arugula pinwheel, a mini "super-apple" cube, a "rock" that broke down into a powder that tasted like hot dogs, a disc of parmesan crumbs, a blob of tomato pulp, a fried, orange-y noodle, and a little fluff of finely grated parmesan. While I don't remember mixing anything into my mac 'n cheese growing up, I played along. The pinwheel was good but nothing to write home about. The apple provided a bit of tartness that paired nicely with the cheddar sauce. The hot dog rock was interesting - it tasted exactly like macaroni & cheese with hot dogs, which is not really my thing, but I still loved the ingenuity. The parmesan crumbs gave a good textural contrast, and the tomato pulp reminded me of a grilled cheese with tomatoes, which is always delicious. The fried noodle was meant to give the mac 'n cheese that Kraft orange-y color we grew up with, but I didn't like the texture of it with the other softer noodles, which were cooked to a perfect al dente (not reminiscent, and happily so, of the often over-boiled mac & cheese of my youth, the product of a nine year-old trying to make herself lunch). The parmesan fluff just made it extra cheesy. While the add-ins were fun, the perfectly cooked macaroni and rich, creamy sauce itself were the star, and Colleen and I added that to our previous list of things we could have eaten larger portions of.

For this course, they gave us TWO pairings. I preferred the Sangiovese to the Charbono, but couldn't finish either... I also still had half my Pinot gris and half my cherry liqueur sitting there. I realized I was getting waaaaay too into the food and forgetting about my pairings.



Garnishes, clockwise from top: ham/arugula pinwheel, super-apple, hot dog rock, parmesan disc, tomato pulp, fried noodle, and fluff of grated parmesan.



5. Autumn - "Winter Wonderland"

Not my picture, but I wanted you to see the underside.

The presentation of this dish was absolutely stunning. A hollowed log held earthy aromatics over 300-degree smoking rocks that gave off the aroma of a campfire. A glass plate over the smoking aromatics holds the dish, which literally looks like a forest landscape. In the pile are roasted mushrooms, a fried carrot "log," fried Swiss chard "leaves," fried leek "hay," a polenta "boulder" covered in powdered puffed black rice and mushroom powder "dirt," a powdery "rock" that tasted exactly like broccoli cheese soup, some berries I couldn't quite place, and an assortment of herbs, including sage and thyme. And I'm sure I forgot something, as it was a jumble that was impossible to sort through. This may have been my favorite dish. First, the smells hit you, and scenes of wandering through the forest come to mind. The earthly colors and variety of textures looked exactly like someone had scooped a handful of the forest floor and dropped it on the glass plate. I'm at a loss for words here - I don't know how else to describe it than you were eating what we normally associate with a smell - the musky, earthy, pungent smell of the woods. And let me tell you, if that's what the forest floor tastes like, I would happily be a deer, because it was phenomenal. The varying textures (touch) created a playground in the mouth, and, combined with the pungent flavors (taste), woodsy aromas (smell), the rich colors (sight), and the realistic snaps and stirring from assembling a bite (sound), provided an all-encompassing sensory experience that was downright mind-blowing. I happily scraped my plate for the fourth time that evening.

6. Hamburger

While this hardly looked like a hamburger upon first glance, the idea slowly materialized from the components. Red "ketchup" sauce smears, yellow mustard dashes, blobs of gelled mayonaise, crunchy bread crumbs, dehydrated pickles and mushrooms, carmelized onions, and fragments of a congealed sauce topped with sesame seeds that I realized were the "bun," all surrounded a hunk of short rib. The short rib had been seared on a griddle to give it a crisp exterior like a burger, but gave way to melt-in-your-mouth meat inside. While I wasn't a fan of the "bun" alone, on top of the short rib it tasted exactly like a bun with McDonald's special sauce. Add a little ketchup, mustard, and pickle, and suddenly I tasted a McDonald's burger. While not my favorite burger (read: this is no substitute for a real burger), it was amazing they could recreate that flavor. Adding some mushroom and onion jazzed the burger up a bit. I started to feel extremely full at this point, but of course I scraped my plate. And drank some wine - the hamburger was paired with a zinfadel, which is my favorite, and was by far the most full-bodied of the bunch, so I appreciated the progression.

7. School Lunch

My lunchbox.

This was arguably the most nostalgic course, as it came out in a lunchbox. Inside were several bites representative of a school-age child's packed lunch. From the exterior, everything looked conventional: an Oreo, a strip of beef jerky, a fruit roll-up, a puffed Funyun, a pudding cup, and a thermos.



Inside my lunchbox.



Oreo.

Beef jerky.

Fruit roll-up.

Funyun.

Pudding cup.



While the fruit roll-up and the Funyon were pretty standard, albeit less artificial-tasting versions, the rest were more unassuming. The Oreo was actually made from black truffles - the mushrooms, not the chocolate confections. The beefy jerky was tender Wagyu beef with hints of soy and spice. The pudding cup was actually layers of rich chocolate, banana, and hazelnut, and the thermos contained a delicious juice made from apple cider and fig, cherry, and bluberry juices. The lunchbox even contained a handwritten note:



My favorite item by far was the Oreo. I'm a sucker for anything truffle, but never before had I tried truffle in a sweet dish. It was outstanding. I didn't know how else to describe the flavor than if Oreos were harvested from the ground and not Nabisco factories. I also enjoyed the beef jerky, which started with a soy flavor and then gradually developed a spice so hot that you had to sip juice from your thermos. However, at this point I was getting so full that I could not quite finish the beef jerky or my juice.

8. "Foie"-sting

But now was not the time to be full, as the server came out bearing our first true dessert course. On the plate was a beater dipped in what looked like frosting, along with two donut balls on parchment paper, as if they were fresh-plucked from the bakery case. The server explained these as apple cider donut holes dusted in cinnamon and sugar. Standard. The frosting, though? “Foie”-sting – frosting made from whipped foie gras. As I think I’ve had foie gras once in my life, I was not sure what I expected this to taste like, so I picked up the beater and took a lick. WOW. Rich. Sweet. Creamy. Decadently fantastic. I dipped a donut in and took a bite. Unreal. My only criticism was that the donuts were not hot; while I am uncertain whether they were supposed to be, I believe it goes without saying that any donut served in a restaurant should be freshly fried (so I guess they really were reminiscent of the bakery case). Regardless, I wished I had more than two donut holes to dip into the foie-sting. I also wished I wasn’t getting so incredibly full, because I wanted to lick every last drop of the foie-sting off the plate and the beater, which was, by the way, so nostalgic (except I still do that...). But I just couldn’t do it. Oh, and they brought out an ice wine to complement the dessert courses, which felt like overkill since I was about to burst.

9. Campfire

Though Colleen and I were both waning at this point after eight rich, substantial courses and what felt like bottomless wine pairings (seriously, full glasses for each course - they'd often leave the bottle on the table for refills, plus random liquor pairings as well - one could easily get bombed at this dinner), we perked up when the next – and last – course came out. The server laid a plate in the middle of the table containing a few dark logs and some dust, then took a blowtorch to it. He explained that our “campfire” was actually composed of sweet potato “logs” and powdered alcohol “dust” that contained campfire aroma, and sure enough, I felt transported back to a summer campfire with the aroma. Another server laid dishes in front of each of us and explained we were not having what one would expect from a campfire (s’mores/roasted marshmallows), but sweet potato pie, which was a big part of the chef’s childhood. Our individual plates contained apricot puree, pecan streusel, marshmallows, and bourbon ice cream; we were then supposed to take a sweet potato from the fire, mix it in with everything on our plate, and then drizzle the entire thing with a warm toffee sauce that the waiter described as a “river of deliciousness.”



My pie components waiting for the sweet potato logs.

Colleen and I roasted our marshmallows just before the fire died, then started assembling our bites of sweet potato pie. Again, just incredible. The components alone were not much to write home about (except the toffee, which I could have drank out of the mini carafe), but together were delicious. The streusel added just a bit of crunch to the otherwise soft ingredients. The campfire aroma in the sweet potatoes gave the dish a little smoky depth. The ice cream, which was almost too bourbon-y on its own, came alive with the addition of the toffee. As we were struggling to finish this off, they brought out yet another course…

10. Hot Chocolate

While not actual food, it may as well have been, as this hot chocolate was made with 70% cacao chocolate and whole milk. It was just bitter enough to not be overly decadent after everything we had been through, but we both only managed a couple sips. They served it with a liqueur to spike it, but Colleen couldn’t do it at all and I only tried a splash so I could say I tried it. At this point my fluffy bed and some loose pajamas sounded really nice. Next was thinking the same thing – since everyone has reserved table times, no one is really allowed to linger, and they do that politely by calling you a cab. I put on my coat that now barely buttoned around my belly and wandered out, dazed by what a fabulous experience we had just had. They gave us the pamplet from the beginning, now containing the menu and pairings:

The next day I surprisingly starving from what I am guessing was a stretched out stomach. All my food seemed incredibly boring. A "soup and sandwich" is really only that - soup and a sandwich? Where's my basket of fried PB&J balls?

While I have now returned to normal (I contentedly accepted pizza as just pizza today), I was trying to think of anything I could take away from them for my own desserts. Most of their innovation is from deconstruction and in-the-moment presentation, which wouldn't work for me. I can't imagine telling a client, "Now, when you go to serve this cake, light the cake on fire, then take this dust and throw it over top - it will turn into frosting!" This is mostly because I don't know how to make fairy frosting dust, but also because people buy from me because they don't want to do anything - they want something pretty and ready to go, or else they would make it themselves. So perhaps total deconstruction won't work, but I think it can work in a different way - deconstructing components to reconstruct in a different form. For example, Next served sweet potato pie as a campfire. I could serve sweet potato pie as a cupcake - pie crust base, a sweet potato cake, torched bourbon-marshmallow frosting, and streusel sprinkled over top. The possibilities for this are endless. Any ideas for your childhood favorites you'd like to see reconstructed?

Oh, I guess there was one thing I can take away directly to apply to my own desserts: I have to get a blowtorch.

First Wedding Cake Part V: THE REAL DEAL - Decoration and Presentation!

(Carrying on with the play-by-play from the last post:)

11:00am Friday: After hitting snooze a few times, I removed the t-shirt wrapped around my eyes (SO bright in that room from the beach rays coming in (I know, what a thing to complain about) that I had to create a makeshift eye mask) and dragged my ass out of bed. I felt pretty confident after the previous day's work, with only the major parts left: stacking the tiers and decorating. At this point I was SO grateful I did the practice run, as doweling and stacking was like cake (pun somewhat intended) now. Cutting the cardboard, dowels, and rods was much easier with the utility knife picked up the day before rather than the steak knife I had used in the practice run. A ruler to measure the dowels exactly rather than eye-balling was also a smart move. After doweling the first two tiers, I was ready to stack. I carefully lifted each tier with the cake lifter and placed it gingerly on top of its base. Alas, I stood back and took a look...

Doweled.

Stacked.

Driving the wooden rod through.

12:00pm: WE ARE UP! Seeing it stacked was an amazing feeling, like I had defied gravity. No one was around, and I was completely in the zone. I felt good enough to take a short yoga break on the deck, both as a release of gratitude and for a little practice since I was missing my yoga teacher-training sessions that weekend (yes, my interests are VERY diversified). I suddenly was overcome with some of the strongest feelings of happiness I have ever felt. Here, in this kitchen in Florida, making this cake, was one of the happiest moments of my life. I was so grateful to have that experience so I could know that I was capable of producing that sort of happiness by myself and for myself. It resides within me. Tears started coming to my eyes. I wanted to relish this moment forever, then figure out how to replicate it going forward. My only idea was to become a traveling cake maker for the wealthy...

12:30pm: Anyways, emotional digression. Pull it together, girl: I know you're happy, but there's a cake to make! I prepped my piping bags and got to work. As I started piping, I became inspired to break away from the practice run designs, so I started piping different ideas onto a sheet of parchment paper. The vertical edges of the cake were so strong that I wanted to accentuate them. I piped the balls at the base of each tier, as planned. But then I piped a few balls going up and down each vertical edge and horizontal edge, framing the corners. I liked that but felt it needed some sort of connection, so I grabbed a smaller tip and piped graduated balls between the corners, so that all the edges were subtly delineated. I was really pleased with this look and moved onto the faces of the tiers. I measured out exact distances between balls and piped them on. At this point, more of Traci's family had started to arrive, and I could hear kids screaming as they jumped in the pool. I tried to not let this ruin my inner peace from earlier. More people = more likely something is going to get messed up, so I focused and worked steadily to finish.

4:00pm: I'M DONE! Exactly 24 hours later. So precisely 16 hours of work to make this cake. I carried the cake like it was my firstborn child over to the fridge and gently placed it inside. We had made a sign the night before for the outside that said, "Please do not open," and I made sure it was firmly in place. I breathed in deeply to trust that when I returned the next day it would look exactly the same (try putting your baby in a fridge overnight! Yeah, exactly...), then left the house to check into the hotel and await the arrival of more friends.

5:00pm Saturday: One of the final, scary duties: transporting the cake to the reception. The ceremony was beautiful, and some friends and I went and got lunch and drinks afterward (again, only one beer), but the thought of transporting the cake loomed in the back of my mind. While I was done, I wasn't actually done yet, and knew I wouldn't feel done until the cake was safely on the table at the reception. My friends, boyfriend Ted, and I walked into what had been my home the last couple days, and I slowly opened the fridge. PHEW - the cake looked exactly the same. Apparently many people sleeping at that house didn't even know the cake was in there. Trickery - even better. I packed up the last of my supplies, grabbed the bowls of extra frosting (for any touch-ups that could arise, god forbid) and lemon curd (for snacks in the car - so freaking good), and watched Ted pull the cake from the fridge. While he's a very agile, steady gentleman that I have never once seen trip or fall, except maybe when slipping on ice or a wet dance floor, I was still nervous as hell. I walked in front of him to clear the path, only having to threaten one small child along the way. Interaction went as follows:

Kid sees the cake. Says: "Oooo is that the cake?" (makes fist gesture) "I'm going to smush it!"

Me: "I'm going to smush you!" - and then realized the Jersey Shore had given that word another meaning that suddenly made me a pedophile...

I held my breath as Ted carried the cake down the twisting front stairs. But, as he is rather tall with large, steady feet and hands, the cake made it safely to my minivan. We folded down some seats and I hopped in the back. We placed the cake on the floor of the trunk, and I held it down with a death grip, while Ted drove like his firstborn child was in the back of the van.

5:20pm: While driving, my friends had some fun with the leftover frosting and curd:

Holding on for life.

5:45pm: We arrived at the reception with the cake intact. I kept having these nightmare flashes that, just when I thought we were almost there, something bad happened. In the car, we were going to get rear-ended. Now that we arrive, Ted was going to trip in the grass while walking the cake to the table. Of course I fret for no reason: the cake made it safely to the table. However, we were not done yet! Traci had ordered a few extra springs of orchids to match her bouquet, and now it was time to artfully arrange them on the cake. This was one part I actually didn't prep for at all, and was suddenly like, "Oh, crap, I hope this goes as smoothly as I figured it would." The only weird part was actually having to smash the flowers into the side of the cake - if for some reason I changed my mind about the arrangement, I was screwed. So I went slowly and deliberately, until we had a stream of purple orchids coming down the cake. Much more beautiful than I had anticipated.

I thought I would feel "done" at this point, but I didn't. During the lovely cocktail hour, my mind kept wandering to whether the cake was okay. I realized then that I wouldn't feel "done" until the final piece: the cake-cutting ceremony.

8:00pm: Traci rushed over to my reception table to grab me for pictures with her, Stephen, and the cake. Then, it was time for the cake cutting. I think the expected feeling is that watching them cut and eat it would feel like someone was ruining your masterpiece. Au contraire - as everyone was gathering, expressing both happiness for the couple and excitement for me, I knew I wasn't going to feel upset. And, as the knife touched the surface of the cake, halted for a second, then slowly sunk through, I actually felt a wave of relief wash over me. IT WAS DONE. I had made my first wedding cake, and it was a complete success.

The cake joined the other fabulous desserts at the dessert bar, and people started mulling through. While the cake was small, the staff did an excellent job of cutting it into smaller pieces so that everyone who wanted to try a bit of cake was able to. I received dozens of compliments from guests; some people who said they normally don't even like cake or frosting LOVED this cake, probably because it was so light and refreshing.

Overall, it was a fantastic success, and I am so grateful to Traci and Stephen for giving me this opportunity. I cannot wait to make my next wedding cake, so if you're getting married soon and are looking for a great-tasting, affordable baker, I'm your girl ;)

First Wedding Cake Part IV: THE REAL DEAL - Preparation

Apologies for the delay - one New Year's resolution is to update more frequently :(

ANYWAYS... back to the never ending wedding cake. THEN we can move onto more timely topics.

Three days after the practice run, it was time to start packing for Florida. I ended up with two bags: one for clothes and one for cake supplies. The cake supply bag contained my pans, a cake lifter (giant, round spatula), piping bags, tips, and couplers, metal icing spatulas, dowels, wooden rods, cake drum (base), cardboard tier bases, frosting smoother (looks like a mini iron), and my apron (figured this was an occasion as any). I prayed I could carry them both on, because after my boyfriend's recent loss of luggage through Southwest (a suitcase full of a week's worth of clothes that covered the gamut of poolside clothes, going out clothes, warm-weather casual clothes, work clothes, workout clothes - i.e., an entire closet), I was not going to risk losing one of these bags. I still question what would have been a more detrimental loss: the clothes or the cake supplies...

Lugging the bags through the airport was less than fun, and security almost confiscated the metal spatulas. Really?? About the only harm those can do is a mild slap, let alone take down a plane. Another gripe: every time I go through security/board a plane, they tell me I have too many carry-ons (a duffel or tote, a rolling suitcase, and a purse). Then, they watch me put the purse inside the duffel/tote, then let me board. What's the difference??? It's the same weight on the plane no matter how many containers it's in...

Anyways, the flight was short and smooth, and upon arrival in Sarasota I picked up my rental car - I was "upgraded" to a minivan for free. Not the most stylish ride, but definitely the most practical for cake transportation. And the license plate had the word "YUM" in it. Perfect.

After a short ride we arrived at Casey Key Road, the mini island where Traci's family and friends have houses, as well as where all the guests' hotels were. So, these houses... UNBELIEVABLE. My jaw dropped as we arrived at her family friend's house, which was where I'd be baking. This place was cavernous. The ceilings in the foyer and living room had to be at least 30 feet tall, there were enough bedrooms to house a sleepover for a family of 12 plus 25 of their closest friends, a pool deck straight out of Cribs, and the kitchen... OH, what a kitchen! So many cabinets there was a library ladder (think Beauty and the Beast-style) to reach the top ones; a granite island so large that at one point 12 people were standing around it like a cooking show, staring at me as I assembled the cakes (ummm, uncomfortable); a completely empty fridge and freezer for cake storage (this was a vacation home); and all the supplies and ingredients I needed already sitting on the counter, thanks to Traci's mom. I only had to grab a few more things from the store, and then it was time to get to work!

The amazing kitchen. I know, poor me...

View from the kitchen while working.

View of the patio from the living room.

4pm Thursday: As I had a pretty limited amount of time, I had to be very efficient in my tasks. So, first things first: the raspberry puree, a component of the cake. As the mixer could only hold one unit of the recipe at a time, I had to mix up three separate sets of batter. I got my first set of pans in the oven, then

started mixing up the next batch. The empty freezers were clutch for a quick turnaround - I just placed the baked cakes straight from the oven into the freezer to cool quickly and preserve moisture. The cakes popped easily out of the pans, the pans were cooled, and I could move onto the next batch.

6:30pm: Around this time I realized I needed to make the lemon curd ASAP so it had enough time to set up and would be ready when it was time to layer the cakes. Luckily, Crissy had just arrived, so she made the curd while I continued with cake mixing and baking.

7:30pm: Time to make the frosting. It whipped up just as perfectly as it did for the tasting. I had grabbed a couple Godiva vanilla bean white chocolate bars at the grocery for the little white chocolate addition. They melted smoothly, and I added them in. The results completely blew me away: not only was the butter flavor gone, but the vanilla beans in the bars imparted a deep, floral, vanilla flavor that I was not expecting. SO delicious. You could also see the vanilla bean flecks in the frosting. This flavor will be a must in my Swiss buttercream in the future, whether via this exact chocolate or the addition of vanilla bean. So pleased.

8:30pm: Dinner break. A slice of pizza. I realized how hungry I was then after only eating a slice of cheese and some crackers earlier that day. Laugh all you want, but cake making is an athletic endeavor: you have to take care of yourself, eat healthy, etc. so that no bodily discomforts prevent you from wanting to stand and work steadily for 11 hours straight (as I did that day). I don't really know how fat chefs do it, unless they eat all the bad stuff after their shift...

8:45pm: Back to it. Time to start assembling. I first leveled the tops of the cakes so they did not slope. After organizing the attack (think rows of cakes ready for stacking), I was ready to go. I piped frosting around the outer edge of the bottom and middle layers to create a dam for the lemon curd, then spooned in the filling. I stacked the layers for each tier, then leveled the sides to create the right angles I mentioned in the last post. These scraps were a hit, as they contained the cake, the filling, and the frosting. People mulling around the kitchen (all the friends and family that had arrived early were staying at this house Thursday night) forked a cake scrap, dipped it in the leftover lemon curd (we made a triple batch to be safe but only used a half batch - oops), and then spooned on a little frosting. Even in this form the cake was already getting rave reviews. After doing the scrap-dip, Stephen, the groom, said, "Wow, that tastes like jumping in a pool - so refreshing."

Mmmm delicious scraps.

10:00pm: Though I wanted to indulge in the plentiful beer and wine with the others, I knew it was a bad idea in order to keep my stamina (told you it was athletic), so I had half a beer and kept chugging (at work, not my drink). As soon as I started the crumb coat process, I realized what I was getting myself into... another several hours of frosting. I did the crumb coat on each tier while the other two sat in the freezer, firming up. The layers were sliding a bit from the loosey-goosey lemon curd, and that had to stop. The freezer was awesome because it firmed up the frosting enough that it didn't nick easily when I moved from the freezer to the counter.

12:30am Friday: Aaaaaaand I'm still frosting. People started to go to bed, but I knew my time wasn't yet. I allowed the crumb coats to firm, then started applying the final frosting coat. I don't know if the humidity was at the perfect level down there, but the frosting was spreading like velvet. I had bought all these precautions for smoothing - Viva paper towels, a fondant smoother - but needed none of them, so the offset spatula was enough. I became giddy about how seamlessly this process had gone thus far. Now, let's hope it continues that way...

3:00am: Aaaaaand time for bed. All three tiers have their final coat of frosting and are chilling in the refrigerator overnight to prepare for the next day: tiering and decorating. See you tomorrow...