Cake!

We don't have many traditions in dawrighthouse, but every year when spring rolls around, I make a scrumdidliumscious strawberry cake.  As the days get longer and the weather gets warmer, I become happier and happier that the winter is behind us.  Meanwhile, G grumbles about mowing the grass and then self-soothes:  "You know, it's about time to make that strawberry cake!  Right??"

This is what, apparently in the south, they call a Poke Cake (although I was born and raised there and don't recall ever making or eating one).  As in, you make a cake, then poke a bunch of holes in it, and fill them with gooey goodness.

Directions:

1.  Bake a strawberry cake.
2.  Take 2 pkgs (10-oz each) of frozen strawberries and puree them with a bit of sugar and water.
3.  Let the cake cool, then poke holes in it about one inch apart.  Spread the frozen strawberry mixture on the cake.  Cover and refrigerate overnight (or for about 4-5 hours).
4.  Prepare the topping:  Whisk a pkg of vanilla instant pudding and one cup milk for about 2 minutes.  Fold in one pkg of cool whip.  Top the cake with whatever ingredients you prefer, but I have to say that strawberries and blueberries are the best!
5.  Cover the cake and let it set (refrigerated) for at least 4 hours.
6.  Enjoy!

I've told you guys that I don't cook very much.  Seriously.  I got this recipe off the back of a cake mix box years ago.  The directions said to take the straight handle of a wooden spoon and to poke holes one inch apart, and for the first 3-4 times I made the cake, that's exactly what I did.  I swear it took me longer to poke those dang holes than to follow any other part of the recipe.

Well, screw that.  These days I take a butter knife and all but stab the poor thing to death.  It's just quicker that way and I'm gonna cover it with the topping anyways.  My experience the other night brought back some strange memories, though:  when we lived in Hawaii, we would drive past huge pineapple fields.  Every few weeks, they would plow the fields with these big tractor-like machines, churning up the dirt.  Huge flocks of birds would follow the machines around, darting into their wake to pluck up the bugs from the churned ground.  Well, the other night as I was shredding this poor cake, G was (quite literally) breathing down my neck.  He would dart around my side and grab the cake crumbs as they flew up from my knife.  That's how much he loves this stuff.

If you know G, then you know he's not exactly a foodie.  However, he takes this recipe seriously.  He likes to let it sit in the fridge for a couple of days until it oozes the strawberry goodness.  Tonight I was reading and he was relishing in his piece.  I looked up to watch him chew, eyes closed, and then sigh, "This cake is d@mn tasty."  And then, "You gotta let it sit for a while, you know?  It's better with time."

I said, "Like a cheese?  Or a fine wine?"

He thought about it for a moment, reaching for just the right analogy, and said, "No, no.  More like a good chili."

I'll take that compliment.