The elusive red velvet.

The appeal of red velvet cake has always eluded me. Not vanilla, and not quite chocolate. A flood of red food coloring required to pull off that vibrant shade of claret. And a flavor that is, quite frankly, on the fence. What is the appeal?

I have felt so lukewarm about this particular confection that Lila usually volunteers to do the baking when we receive an order. And the orders do come. Red velvet cake is one of our more popular requests, especially for birthdays. Clearly, I stand in a very tiny minority.

On this particular evening, I decided it was time to face the red velvet cake head on. Befriend it, if possible. I dove in. A large 50th birthday cake was on the docket, so I decided to double the recipe. Sugar, butter, separated eggs, rich cocoa powder, flour and egg whites whipped into stiff peaks and gently folded in. I took care, and I was methodical in every step. I grimaced when it came time to douse the batter in red dye, but what the hell. Red velvet cake or bust.

I soon had a small audience in the kitchen. The cakes were baking, and the cream cheese frosting was in full swing. The signs were good. Cakes went from the oven to the freezer to chill in anticipation of frosting.

Operation crumb coat is the best time to be passing through the kitchen. The cake has been cut into layers, and there are invariably scraps of all shapes and sizes, perfectly sized to smear with frosting and taste-test. This is where the rubber meets the road. Where the truth wills out. When either success or failure is proclaimed.

Miraculously, my red velvet cake has been declared a victory. Mission accomplished. A new acquaintance has been made. Bon anniversaire, KG.