The Long Week Of Birthdays

This was a week of cake. Of presents. Torn wrapping paper. A few balloons. Singing that memorable song. 

Two birthdays in one week and I am totally k to the nackered.

Matt's birthday kicked us off and I made Stephanie Alexander's 'Best Cheesecake'. It took longer than anticipated, and, well I have a lack of skill when it comes to reading ahead - to discover the cake had to sit overnight in the fridge. No matter, we just drew out his birthday festivities! 

I must also declare that it is indeed the best cheesecake. Ever. Like EVER. I would share a photo but there's only a thin slither left. It will be Fight Club when it comes to divvying it up. 

Matt really wanted a New York cheesecake, I couldn't find a recipe and had to appease him with this. I do believe that man was a little disgruntled. That was until he tasted the goodness of Stephanie's cake. 

Then it was my little man's birthday. I raced home from work on Monday to bake cupcakes for his class. I was so dog tired after a crazy day at the office. I knew I'd make Nigella's cupcakes - which for me are failsafe. Usually. 

I tossed the first lot into the oven, came back 15 minutes later - and instead of perky cupcakes, I pulled out a rack of deflated, inverted things that looked more like pastry shells. 

Pooh! 

I put another lot in thinking surely this can't be happening. 30 cupcakes required. 

The second lot came out. Plop. Same thing. 

I went to bed feeling a bit cross, having tossed the remaining mix in the bin - they were all unsalvageable, and I had to go to bed before I turned into a pumpkin. 

Got up the next morning - well actually was woken up by an excited birthday child - at 5:50am. Er. Thanks.

Made breakfast, and went for second shot with the cupcakes. 

SUCCESS!! 30 - actually 36 perky cupcakes. I let them cool, iced them with butter cream icing, topped each with a Malteser and boom - up to the school. 

Then made another cake for that afternoon with our little family. This time Nigella's birthday cake. Success again people. By this point I am willing to throw the towel in and become a baker. Or something. 

By the night time I was exhausted. But happy.