I prefer being called an artist.

...but my kindergarden teacher would likely say I have difficulty following directions.

Note: I'm typing from my phone using the Swype feature. Any bizarre word choices are courtesy of my little buddy.

My homie Shannon rose to local fame this week when the official Tasty  Kake Facebook page posted her recipe for their very delicious and locally famous treat.

I la la la love Kandy Kakes and had all of the ingredients on hand so I gave it a whirl.

I'm a pretty decent cook- I like to play in the kitchen and put things together to see if they work. This week's obsession is baby arugala and blue cheese dressing.

I don't care for Rachel Ray but I finally get why she calls herself a cook and does NOT like baking; baking requires following directions where cooking allows for quite a but of improvisation. And my kitchen ADD loves that about cooking. My kitchen ego gets stroked and I serve my family a delicious, original creation similar to the likes of the folks on Chopped who only have a basket of food found in a gas station to work with (or something like that.)

But baking? The spirit who resides over the kitchen- a woman scorned- and demands all who enter heed her meticulous instructions lest cooks everywhere end up with a pie that's too sweet or a cake that won't rise...

So the bright idea I had? Subbing the four eggs with the equivalent of four egg whites.

Completely unnecessary. And although it wasn't terrible, just not awesome.

And a motto I surely follow: life is too short to eat mediocre desserts.

The peanut butter and chocolate tasted like the faned kakes. (I used white. It was what I had on hand.)  The actual kake part...extra sweet and damp. Not moist...but damp like a rum-soaked cake. Meh.

Life lesson? Until you have basic truths figured out in your baking kitchen (ie subbing baking soda for powder? Don't add additional salt, etc.), listen to the kitchen witch.

Notes about pics: 

1. I LOVE warm peanut butter.

2. Iced.

3. Mamma tried.

4. Cutting chocolate is funny. Fortunately boys don't care what they eat most days. Hunger is the best spice.