Cake close-ups.

Yesterday was my brother's 20th (!) birthday. I did not make him a cake, because no amateur birthday cake I could manage to whip up would ever live up to a) boxed yellow cake mix or b) store-bought ice cream cake with those little chocolate crunchies, you know what I'm talking about. These are just facts of life.

Instead, I bought an ice cream cake with chocolate crunchies (duh). We watched Eddie Izzard's "Cake or Death?" sketch, and he had three slices (slabs?) of ice cream cake. Then, for completely unrelated reasons, I baked a loaf of bread and three different cakes. Here they are!

Sally Lunn bread, as seen from above:

Uhhh this is not fluorescent in real life. I don't know what happened here.

Deb Perlman of Smitten Kitchen is my #1 culinary role model. She posted this recipe, and I followed along without changing a single thing, which is unheard of. I trust her that much. She recommended pairing this slightly sweet, brioche-like bread with honey brown butter, and a warm slice of this spread with that is reason enough to believe in a higher power.

I swear, you could slather that all over a used sock and I'd have to think long and hard about how inadvisable it would be to lick it off. I tried to take a quick picture of my test slice, with the honey butter on it gleaming brighter than sunshine, but I ate it in about eight bites instead. (That doesn't sound that impressive, but I have a small mouth, so take my word for it.)

This is another Smitten Kitchen favorite:

This strawberry buttermilk cake delivers the biggest payoff for the least effort of any recipe I know. The original, which uses raspberries, is my personal favorite take on it, but the strawberries in the fridge were about three minutes away from spontaneously exploding into fuzzy mold, so in they went. The second cake was the same, but with semi-sweet chocolate chips, in case of any weirdos who wouldn't want the fruity, delicious first option. I didn't take a picture of that one because all the chips sank, leaving a perfectly smooth, perfectly dull surface with the chocolate lurking beneath. Surprise for whoever cuts the first slice!

I've been trying to find a suitable coffee cake recipe: the kind of coffee cake that contains no coffee but plenty of cinnamon, topped generously but not indecently with sugary streusel. It's harder than it sounds. I thought I'd managed it this time, but instead of beautiful brown sugar crumbles, I got this craggy alien landscape:

You know what, though? It's delicious. It's a keeper. Don't judge a cake by its nooks and crannies.

I wrapped everything up in foil and labeled it:

So don't anyone ever tell me that you can't "win" at church coffee-hour. I'm pretty sure I just did.