I’m just going to come out and say it.
I’m not a baker. I am a cook. I love to cook things. I do not like to bake things. I do, however, love baked things. And sadly, sometimes the only way to get quality baked things is to bake them yourself. So I do. But deep down I rebel against it and would rather be grilling a pizza.
There’s another thing I’m not. And that’s an artist. My mother, sister and cousin and grandmother are excellent artists. I did not get that gene. I got every artistic gene but that one. So why I thought I could pull this off, I have no idea.
I blame Josh. For insisting that some day I’m going to be one of those moms who make little artistic culinary renditions for her kids’ birthday parties. And I blame Bakerella, for making me want to be one of those moms. And I blame the Ann Arbor library, for carrying the book Hello Cupcake!, which I inadvertently came across last week and which briefly convinced me that I, too, could create irresistible, playful creations. Damn you, cupcake book. Damn you. Continue reading