Pioneer Woman's "Grandma Iny's Prune Cake" is in my fridge. Taunting me. Glistening in all it's spice cakey, gooey carmel covered goodness. "You mayn't have some." it taunts, sounding self righteous. The flour in the batter sticks it tongue out at me. The 1 cup of oil beckons with a "Come hither" glance and a reminder that there is buttermilk, nutmeg, and cinnamon in here. Tantalizing cinnamon..... mmmmm....
Considering that my baby will turn 1 in a month and I'm wearing a maternity shirt today, the oil should be a deterent. It isn't. But that darn flour. If it wasn't for that darn flour, I'd be diving in FACE FIRST into this cake. It's been that kind of day.
So I'm eating iceberg lettuce by the handful. Just plain old iceberg lettuce. Sometimes I glare over at the fridge, "See??? I don't need you, Cake. This lettuce is awesome. I love this lettuce, and it loves me back."
Cake rolls it's eyes. Cake knows I am lying.
Because Cake knows a universal truth: iceberg lettuce is NOT cake.
I hate Cake.
If you like Cake, and you really should, and you aren't Celiac or something, then please--follow Pioneer Woman's admonition and make this cake now.