Wednesday, July 4

It's George Washington's Party And He'll Cry If He Wants To



Happy Birthday, America! To celebrate, I went to a Spanish restaurant and had a sardine sandwich, lifted enough weights in a jazzercise-y setting to qualify for a low-grade division of American Gladiators and whipped up* this completely accurate (as far as I'm concerned) Martha Stewart flag cake.

I also covered the entire kitchen counter, wall, floor and myself in half-whipped egg whites, spent an afternoon curiously worrying about how to transport a heavy dessert, watched butter soften (not a joke) and cut the whole bottom layer off after realizing I had inadvertently burnt it. If worrying about success, eating gobs of icing for no reason and repeating a slideshow of images in my head stored from old episodes of Food Network cake-making shows isn't the American dream, then I don't know what is.

Time to go grill a hamburger, cough from smoke and then have someone else grill it for me, and eventually watch fireworks on a roof while waiting for the glittery, weeping willow-style ones I love so much. (Those smiley-faced and heart-shaped ones? Blasphemy.)

Sheet cake recipe, flag cake recipe, cream cheese frosting recipe. Do it to it.

*(Because "whipped up" sounds better than "legitimately spent five hours making")

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