ontogenically I’m six years old and I have just taken a gargantuan bite of a frosting encrusted slice of purple-winged-roller-skate shaped cake. I’ve chosen to have my birthday party at the skating rink this year, and after soaring deftly around the rink for lap after lap to the sounds of Baby Got Back, Achy Breaky Heart, My Lovin’ – You’re Never Gonna Get It, and the like (it’s 1992, after all) that bite of cake is pure heaven.
I am not a baker, y’all, so when a regular Kids Cooking Class client called to explain her son is turning 12 and wants to host a cake baking class, fight or flight set in and I froze in terror. My eyes widened, and my heart sank to my stomach as a vision of a cake baking chaos with 12-year-olds in tow flashed into my mind. Then I thought, “What would Julia Child do?” She would put on her big girl panties and get to baking. That’s what!