Peanut Head had a birthday a little over a week ago, and in this house that always means cake. There is never any mixing it up with different desserts for birthdays around here. Birthday equals cake and the cake must be chocolate.
We're very rigid like that.
So anyway, Peanut Head was traveling "for work" on his birthday so we didn't have cake exactly on his birthday.
Why the snooty quotation marks you might be asking? Well, because I was at home. With the dirty house, and the dirty laundry, and the dirty, noisy girlies, doing all the work while Peanut Head had his little mental vacation.
Yes, I'm bitter and I don't mind saying so.
So, since Peanut Head had his birthday while he was away, we made his cake when he got back. You should know that I seriously considered making his cake on his birthday and eating it before he got home, but I was too busy with all the dirty and the work to even think about cake.
So he lucked out.
I decided to let the girls help me make the cake. Because the house was already a disaster and all, and it was way worse when we were done.
But we had cake to look forward to.
And this cake? This cake is the best chocolate cake on the planet. No lie. There was only ever one cake that could even compete with this cake, and that was here.
And I'm feeling magnanimous after all that delicious, moist, chocolate decadence, so I'm going to share the recipe with you.
Except that, oopsie, I should probably mention that this recipe is a super secret family recipe, passed down from the Barefoot Contessa and cradled lovingly in my possession for many, many years. I'm real old, you know.
So all I'm asking of you, is that you please, pretty please, don't tell on me. Pinky swear on it.
You looked, so now you are sworn to secrecy. And that means you too, Alison. Don't tell. Nobody likes a tattletale.