Mocha Pinwheels and the Twelve Hours of Baking

VLUU L210  / Samsung L210

My heart is still hurting. I, along with many other bloggers, joined in a Day of Silence yesterday for the victims of the unspeakable tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. I know that I’ll never be able to comprehend the grief of all those affected, but my thoughts and prayers and tears have been with them since Friday. I can only hope that my children will live in a world a little less fearful than this one.

In honor of the spirit of family, friends, and love that is still so much a part of this season–now perhaps more than ever–I’m honored to bring you a guest post from a very special friend. Frequent readers will remember Cayce from our cake baking adventures, cupcake tastings, and her impending wedding, and today she’s sharing with you one of her family’s most treasured traditions (as well as a recipe): The Twelve Hours of Baking.

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A Typewriter Cake Escapade (plus Vanilla Buttercream)

If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen the slew of in-progress photos I posted of the epic typewriter cake my friend C and I created last weekend. This was my first cake construction project, and it was a huge success. Worthy of a feature on Chip Chip Hooray? You know it!

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"The most dangerous cake recipe in the world…"

Well, it’s another manic Monday. Although my day way bookended by events that normally would bum me out (namely, (a) my eyeliner broke at 6 a.m. so I looked either extremely ill or like an insomniac all day long and (b) the LIRR had massive delays system-wide thanks to a stall in the tunnel, so I had to make a mad dash via an express subway to Brooklyn and hope I made a different connection there [I did]), I am still flying high from my awesome weekend.

Why so awesome, you ask?

Well, my delightful college roommate sent me a message at 11 p.m. on Friday night, putting forth the proposition that we go back to campus to visit. The next day. As in, I would get on a train in eight hours and come meet her in NJ and we’d head to PA together.

Now, those who know me well know that I am not a spontaneous girl. My nickname in high school among my friend group was The Planner (yeah; not very catchy) because if I didn’t pick a time, name the place, and call everyone, nothing would ever happen. To quote a line from a scandalously overused Broadway musical that’s stuck in my head thanks to Glee, “I make lists in my sleep, baaaaaby.”

But on Friday, I asked myself, “Why the hell not?” I had no plans this weekend. I haven’t seen my roommates in forever. And it just sounded like fun. So I threw some clothes in a beach bag, grabbed a few hours of sleep, and hopped on a train at 7:30 the next morning en route to good old alma mater.

I think I need to start incorporating more impulsiveness into my life. We surprised a bunch of people who had no idea we were coming, braved a monsoon just to get from campus to the car, and ate pizza and chocolate eggs at 3 in the morning. Glorious, simply glorious.

Anyway! In honor of my college throwback weekend, I’ve got a Monday night treat for all of you who might not be riding the wave of happiness that I’m lucky to be surfing. Courtesy of the very same college roommate who convinced me to step outside my box of routine…

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