Happy Boozy Birthday Cake to Me

Wow, thanks for all the birthday love you’ve been sending me, people.  I mean, I know that my family knows my birthday and all, but for those of you who are strangers to my eyes and just popped out of the ethers to wish me a happy birthday from Russia or Sweden or some other country I’ve never visited, to you I say:

Thank you! And who are you, how did you find me and how the hell did you know today was my birthday?  What other pertinent information do you have about me?  Social Security Number?  Birth Certificate copy?  That school picture of me in eighth grade with those pink John Waters’ nightmare glasses?

HOWWHATWHYWHENWHEREWHO?

You know what?  I don’t want to know, so I’ll just say Thank You, thank you, and thank you.

In answer to your questions:

·     No, I will not be celebrating my birthday in raucus style today, as my poor husband will shortly be getting on a plane to Canada for a three day business meeting, and scheduling an awesome party while he’s out of the country might be grounds for divorce.

·     We’ll be celebrating closer to Halloween, which is fine with me, as it is my favorite holiday in the world.  This year I’ll be going as Zom-B(ie)yonce.  I don’t actually know if I’ll be wearing it to a party, but at the very least I will be wearing it as I walk to the post office, take the bus, pick up the dry cleaning, etc.

·     My favorite birthday present I ever received is a toss up between two presents my deceased grandmother (who we affectionately refer to as “Dead Jean”, and who currently resides in my mother’s basement) gave to me, as she was losing her mind to sugar and Jesus.  The first was St. Francis of Assisi wind chimes, because who doesn’t need those, right? And the other was matching sweatshirts for my mother and I (because our birthdays are one day apart, and why wouldn’t we want to dress alike?). These sweatshirts were bright pink (great color for a red head) and had puff painted-on diabolical kitten faces floating above very phallic-looking pussy willows.  The hideousness and blissful ugly of these shirts caused hours of pee-in-the-pants laughter.  And laughter really is the best gift, right?

·     My ideal birthday meal is red wine and cake.  Duh.

Harvey Wallbanger Birthday Cake

This cake packs quite a punch, and is adapted from the book, Booze Cakes, which was gifted to me by my niece, Savannah, who knows me so well.  It is also a favorite cake of my friend, Willems.  

This cake is a take on the classic 1970's drink, the Harvey Wallbanger, or as I call it, the creamsicle for grown-ups.  What is a better gift to a friend than an alcoholic cake?

Note to people who don't want to explode:  I don't think I'd use candles on this cake, as the entire thing might combust.

MAKE THE CAKE

1 box yellow cake mix

1 (3.3 ounce) box vanilla instant pudding

1/2 cup vegetable oil

4 eggs

1/4 cup vanilla vodka*

1/4 cup Galliano liqueur

1/4 cup orange juice

* If you don’t have vanilla vodka, it’s ok.  For every tablespoon of Vanilla vodka, substitute 1 Tbsp of vodka and a ½ tsp of vanilla extract.  Or, plan ahead and stick a split vanilla pod or two into a bottle of vodka and leave it alone for a few weeks.  Delicious.

Preheat oven to 350°F and grease a 10 inch cake pan (I like a springform pan) with Pam or butter, whatever.

Put everything into a bowl and beat with an electric mixer till it is smooth, about 3-4 minutes.  Pour into the greased cake pan and cook for about 40 minutes or until the cake turns golden brown on top.

MAKE THE GLAZE

½ cup confectioner sugar

¼ cup honey

1 Tbsp orange juice

4 Tbsp vanilla vodka*

2 Tbsp Galliano liqueur

Mix all this goodness up in a small bowl, till all the lumps are gone.

When you pull the cake from the oven, prick it full of holes with a knife or skewer or something, and pour the glaze on top.  Try to restrain yourself from taking a fork to the pan for about 15 minutes, while the cake cools and soaks in the glazy goodness.  Happy birthday.