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Cake Quotes

“I nearly had a cakegasm at the table. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moaned. "Sweet Christ." I opened my eyes to find Hunter watching me with the strangest expression on his face. "What? It's really good; you should try some," I said, pushing the plate at him. It was a testament of how embarrassed I was about the cakegasm that I was even sharing at all. "I swear, if there weren't a table between us, I would be kissing you right now. And none too gently." I put my form down and swallowed so I wouldn't choke. "You didn't seem to mind about the recliner," I said. "True. But there wan't an audience, and that's a very ugly recliner. This is a very nice table. Also there is glass and sharp things I wouldn't want hurting you." "Good point. Please, have some." "If you're going to make that noise and that face again, I don't know if I can let you have any more." "I'll be good. I swear." "You're not good. That's the problem." "You're right. I'm not," I said, giving him my own smirk. "I do try, though." "Cruel. That's the word to describe you right now." "Just have some cake.”

“Yeah, just what I needed, a massive three-day Hostess binge, followed by a week of trying to replicate recipes so that if no one decides to buy and reissue Twinkies and Suzy Q's, I'll be all set. It was a ridiculous endeavor, since most of the experience of Hostess is in the slightly plasticky tastes and textures, which cannot be replicated in a home kitchen. You can make a delicious moist yellow cake and fill it with a marshmallowy vanilla cream, and it will be spectacular, trust me; I ate at least a dozen. But it won't taste like a Twinkie. The cake won't have the springiness, the filling won't have the fluff, and it is impossible to get those three little dots in the bottom. Which would be fine, since I hadn't actually eaten a Hostess product for the better part of a decade, hadn't missed them either. But that little news item hit, and in a Pavlovian fit of nostalgia, I was off to the local gas station to load up on white boxes with blue and red details. Twinkies, Sno Balls, Ding Dongs... even a cherry Fruit Pie. All of them the flavors of my youth, and proof that there are certain things you should leave as fond memories, since they don't really hold up.”

“Every recipe in this book has the potential to help someone in need. The recipes work in many different ways, depending on the individual's circumstances," she explains, "but the recipe for Orange Blossom Cake is special. The person who takes the first bite of the cake will see a vision of the sweetest moment of happiness that awaits them in life.”

“Intelligence is the icing, but wisdom is the cake.”

“Stella is next up. Her cake is striking to look at, stacked in graduated tiers, so that it almost resembles half of a bee's nest. It's lightly frosted in that naked style, the icing scraped away to reveal the edges of the sponge, cooked to perfection. A honey-colored glaze drips attractively down the sides, and small fondant bees with almond silver wings cling to the tops of the cakes; a few are even hovering on wire to look like they are flying. "I must say I've never seen a cake shaped like this. What are the flavors?" Betsy asks, and Stella beams. "It's flavored with orange zest and honey.”

“Stirring the pastry cream and putting it in the blast chiller in the island, a total chefly indulgence that I have never once regretted. The house filling with the scent of rich, dark chocolate as the cakes rise in the oven. The treat of the moist trimmings as I even up the layers before spreading the thick custard filling between them. The fudgy frosting smoothed perfectly over the whole thing, and then immediately marred with chocolate cookie crumbs.”

“The cakes were unanimously declared to be extremely delicious, and there was discussion about which type of icing would be more popular. Finally, agreement was reached that, while some adults might prefer the glace icing, children would probably prefer the butter icing- and that Therese could probably charge more for a cake with butter icing on it because it made the cake look a bit bigger.”

“On the top rack is a cooled and decorated seven-layered 'opera' cake. Her client- the Peruvian ambassador- had requested a "tropical" theme for a dinner party dessert. Avis had based the decoration on the view through the kitchen window, re-creating in lime, lemongrass, and mint frostings the curling backyard flora, curving foliage shaped like tongues and hearts, fat spines bisecting the leaves.”

“The oblong, one-layer cake was coated in powder-pink frosting. Around the sides of the cake the pink was decorated with white frills resembling lace. Both the top left corner and the bottom right corner of the upper surface were adorned with lilac roses and white rosebuds tipped with strawberry pink. And across the center of the cake, starting at the bottom corner on the left and sloping up towards the top corner on the right, was the baby's name in lilac cursive script: "Perfect.”

“The tower of cookies was high enough to touch the lanterns Mrs. Belmagio and Mrs. Vaci brought in a five-tiered chocolate cake, meticulously decorated with plump crimson cherries and hazelnut frosting. Each layer was shaped like a scalloped bowl, meant to resemble the fountain in Pariva's central square, and topped with a generous sprinkling of bluebell petals. But what made Chiara tear up were the cards pressed carefully into the cake, each on a sliced piece of cork---messages from every friend, neighbor, child, and elder she had ever known. We'll miss you. May you spread your light and make all of Esperia bright.”

“I've never known anyone with the capacity for sugar that Adeena has. She'd demolished her waffles, which she'd drowned in syrup, and then ordered a slice of triple chocolate tuxedo pie, another sugar bomb. If I ate the way she'd did, I'd have lost a foot to diabetes by now. Martha slid our desserts in front of us, and Adeena and I hummed in appreciation after taking our first bites. The lemon icebox cake was cold and creamy, with a background sweetness and a whole lot of tang. As I often did when sampling delicious desserts, I tried to deconstruct what was in it. Graham crackers, cream cheese, whipped cream, and a ton of lemon curd seemed to be the basis of the recipe. Similar to the ginger calamansi pie I'd made, but simpler and no-bake, if I decided to buy the graham crackers instead of making my own. Definitely worth experimenting with, as I had a jar of calamansi curd tucked away in the fridge just begging to be used. I made a note on my phone later, maybe as a summer offering. As per usual when eating out, Adeena and I swapped plates so we could taste each other's desserts. "What do you think, girls?" I grinned at Martha. "Delicious. I love how the lemon cake is sweet and tangy, but you don't go too far in either direction." Adeena added, "It's the perfect counterpoint to my chocolate pie, which is divine, by the way. Rich, creamy, and so satisfying.”

“They set aside the quills and inspected the roasted pear, which was filled with mascarpone and scattered with pistachios. Leo considered. "The mascarpone's a good idea," he said. "It's not sweet. There's some cardamom in there too." Britt nodded. The tuiles that accompanied the pear were caramelized and sparkling with coarse dark sugar. He took a bite of pear and mascarpone and a bite of tuile and chewed, still nodding. Leo took one more bite. "That's actually really good. I hate a mushy pear, but this is just right." They moved on to the sour cherry cake, which was moist and fragrant with almond and some herbal note that quieted both of them. They sat, tasting and thinking, for several seconds, until Leo said, "Hyssop.”

“Except for the coconut cake (filled with Meyer lemon curd and glazed with brown sugar), most of the desserts she made for Walter were not her best or most original, but they were exemplars of their kind: portly, solid-citizen desserts, puddings of rice, bread, and noodles-sweets that the Pilgrims and other humble immigrants who had scraped together their prototypes would have bartered in a Mayflower minute for Greenie's blood-orange mousse, pear ice cream, or tiny white-chocolate eclairs. Walter had also commissioned a deep-dish apple pie, a strawberry marble cheesecake, and a layer cake he asked her to create exclusively for him. "Everybody expects one of those, you know, death-by-chocolate things on a menu like mine, but what I want is massacre by chocolate, execution by chocolate- firing squad by chocolate!" he told her. So that very night, after tucking George in bed, Greenie had returned to the kitchen where she made her living, in a basement two blocks from her home, and stayed up till morning to birth a four-layer cake so dense and muscular that even Walter, who could have benched a Shetland pony, dared not lift it with a single hand. It was the sort of dessert that appalled Greenie on principle, but it also embodied a kind of uberprosperity, a transgressive joy, flaunting the potential heft of butter, that Protean substance as wondrous and essential to a pastry chef as fire had been to early man. Walter christened the cake Apocalypse Now; Greenie held her tongue. By itself, this creation doubled the amount of cocoa she ordered from her supplier every month. After it was on his menu for a week, Walter bet her a lobster dinner that before the year was out, Gourmet would request the recipe, putting both of them on a wider culinary map.”

“We started getting hungry again, and some of the women started chanting, "MEAT, MEAT, MEAT!" We were having steak tartare. It was the only appropriate main course we could think of, for such a graceless theme, and seeing as nobody in the club was confident making it, we had to order it in. I made chips to serve with it, though. I deep-fried them in beef fat. The steak was served in little roulades, raw and minced, like horsemeat. It was topped with a raw egg yolk, chopped onions, pickled beetroot, and capers. I had wanted to use the Wisconsin version, which is served on cocktail bread and dubbed "cannibal sandwich," but Stevie insisted we go classic. Not everyone could stomach theirs with the raw egg yolk, too, and so, unusually for a Supper Club, there was quite a lot left over. We took another break to drink and move about the room. Some of us took MDMA. Emmeline had brought a box of French macarons, tiny pastel-colored things, which we threw over the table, trying to get them into one another's mouth, invariably missing. For our proper dessert, we had a crepe cake: a stack of pancakes bound together with melted chocolate. We ate it with homemade ice cream, which was becoming a real staple.”

“Brownies in Ernakulam One of Ernakulam's best bakeries, Rising Loaf, provides handcrafted premium made-to-order baked treats that are free of preservatives and additives. Custom cakes, delicacies, and gourmet sweets are available. Our blends are one-of-a-kind because they mix a great deal of skill and expertise with natural baking ingredients to provide you with the best sweetness and taste. We take pride in giving every one of our clients, big and small, an amazing experience. Brownies in Ernakulam is committed to making high-quality bread devoid of artificial preservatives, colours, or flavours. All of our bread loaves, cakes, cookies, doughnuts and muffins, and cupcakes are lovingly created in Ernakulam's cleanest environment. The fullness of our clients' grins when they try our exquisite items and return for more is how we define success at Rising Loaf. They're the cherry on top of our cake, the driving force behind our efforts to improve our baking and customer service. To maintain the authentic taste and fresh flavours, we are captivated by using only high-quality and fresh ingredients in our confectioneries. The fullness of our clients' grins when they try our exquisite items and return for more is how we define success at Rising Loaf. They're the cherry on top of our cake, the driving force behind our efforts to improve our baking and customer service. Rising Loaf, one of Ernakulam's best bakeries, was created by friends with a passion for baking with the purpose of making handcrafted premium baked products that are completely free of harmful food preservatives and additives and delivering them to your door.”

“Another component it has, see, is the chocolate. The chocolate is this unbelievable deliciousness that everyone wants and is lucky to come into contact with. It's sweet, it's light, it's of the highest quality and best flavor. Just so much sugary goodness there." Benny turns over the piece of the Reese's Cup he's holding between his thumb and forefinger. I've given up trying not to cry. "But here it's complemented by peanut butter. Peanut butter, it's got protein, right? So it has a lot of strength. A little saltiness, a little punch---this peanut butter won't take your shit sitting down, y'know? Because peanut butter has been through a lot to get here in its current form. A long process, a whole lot of grinding and pressure and struggle, to come out as smooth and complex and amazing as it is." I see that Raj, Nia, and Lily have wandered into PK 2 and are standing with Seb and the others, watching with expressions ranging from confusion to astonishment to pure enjoyment as Benny gets more and more spirited. About cake. About clearly much more than cake. "Now, even with all it took, even with all that these ingredients had to go through, all the heat it's taken to make the cake what it is, people might not be fans of this cake. While it's objectively incredible, perhaps the greatest cake that has ever existed, it's still gonna have haters. There are those who might watch this video and feel the need to comment on this cake, and tell it that it's not as special as it is, or point out what they think are flaws. People will disagree with chocolate and peanut butter being delicious, a stance that is plainly wrong. Others might suggest that Friends of Flavor would somehow be better off without this cake, or that my limited experience making decent Italian food somehow make my presence here more valuable than this cake's. "Well, I'd like to make it clear that those people don't know a single fucking thing." Gasps echo through the room, including my own. Did he just say that? Live? "They don't know about this cake, they don't know how wonderful it is. They've never seen something so purely good, so unobjectionably awesome. They feel intimidated and inferior, because they are inferior and always will be. They don't have anything on this cake and they know it, so they sit behind their computer screens or stand behind their oversize egos and tear it down to try to prop themselves up. But they'll be lucky if they ever cross paths with a cake like this and it dares to spit in their direction.”

“But no matter what else happens, this one thing my mom has always had a weakness for--- Monster Cake. A perilous invention from childhood, the day Paige and Mom and I decided to test the limits of our rinky-dink oven with a combination of Funfetti cake mixed with brownie batter, cookie dough, Oreos, Reese's Cups, and Rolos. The result was so simultaneously hideous and delicious that my mom fashioned googly eyes on it out of frosting, and thus, Monster Cake was born.”

“Whoooa! Red! Green! Yellow! Brown! Purple! Even black! Look at all those bowls full of brilliantly colored batter!" She used strawberries, blueberries, matcha powder, cocoa powder, black sesame and other natural ingredients to dye those batters. They look like a glittering array of paints on an artist's palette! "Now that all my yummy edible paints are ready... ...it's picture-drawing time!" "She twisted a sheet of parchment paper into a piping bag and is using it to draw all kinds of cute pictures!" "You're kidding me! Look at them all! How did she get that fast?!" Not only that, most chefs do rough sketches first, but she's doing it off the cuff! How much artistic talent and practice does she have?! "All these cutie-pies go into the oven for about three minutes. After that I'll take them out and pour the brown sugar batter on top..." "It appears she's making a roll cake if she's pouring batter into that flat a pan." "Aah, I see. It must be one of those patterned roll cakes you often see at Japanese bakeries. That seems like an unusually plain choice, considering the fanciful tarts she made earlier." "The decorations just have to be super-cute, too." "OOOH! She's candy sculpting!" "So pretty and shiny!" That technique she's using- that's Sucre Tiré (Pulled Sugar)! Of all the candy-sculpting arts, Sucre Tiré gives the candy a glossy, nearly glass-like luster... but keeping the candy at just the right temperature so that it remains malleable while stretching it to a uniform thickness is incredibly difficult! Every step is both delicate and exceptionally difficult, yet she makes each one look easy! She flows from one cutest technique to the next, giving each an adorable flair! Just like she insisted her apple tarts had to be served in a pretty and fantastical manner... ... she's even including cutesy performances in the preparation of this dish!”

“Our cake represents the best our families' bakeries Salt and Sugar have to offer," Pedro says, addressing the audience. "Two layers. There's the savory, nourishing quality of Parmesan corn and the sweetness of a guava-drizzled cake that's a reinterpretation of bolo de rolo. Two flavors that are dominant by themselves, meeting to complement each other." He points at each layer. "Salt and Sugar. Just like our families' bakeries." The judge smiles. "Thank you, kids. And what do you call your cake?" I meet Pedro's eyes. Deciding on the name wasn't hard. But saying it out loud in front of our families could go either way. "Romário and Julieta," we say in unison.”

“Cosima lines up all her little jars of dried herbs and flowers, then carefully picks the ones she needs. "Acacia, for secret love. Celandine, for joys to come. Bluebell," she whispers, "for constancy. Bougainvillea, for passion. And chrysanthemum, for truth." She finds her special ceramic baking bowl and begins to add the usual ingredients: flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. "And the only flavor strong enough to mask the flowers." Cosima opens the cupboard above her head and takes down two bars of the finest dark chocolate she's ever tasted. "Ninety-nine percent. Perfect." After she's grated a beetroot, for moisture, and added vanilla pods, for extra flavor, Cosima pours the dark, thick mixture into a small baking tin and slips it into the oven. An hour later, she cools the cake, then glazes its black (with a tint of purple) surface with a chocolate icing seasoned with a little dust of daffodil, passionflower, and cosmos: new beginnings, faith, joy in love and life.”

“Grace had turned to Leeza, Ken, her boyfriend, Brian, and baking. She started by baking the family recipes from her childhood. Cinnamon buns, gingersnaps, saffron bread, and lingonberry pancakes. Grace knew she didn't have her mother's talent, but she tried her best and hoped it might also bring her mother back to earth. Maybe even bring the two of them closer. One afternoon, Grace made a German chocolate cake. She decided to try something different, and added fresh local Door County sour cherries to the batter. When Ken tasted it, he'd fallen on the floor, exclaiming, "I'm dead, but at least I went to heaven: Death by chocolate!”

“The French take their bûche de Noël, the traditional Christmas Yule log cake, much more seriously. Gwendal had been training at school, and he came back with snapshots of his gleaming white glaçage, slick as black ice, decorated with a forest of bitty spun-sugar pine trees and spotted meringue mushrooms. Who knew my husband had such talents? I was bordering on jealous when he came home with a foolproof recipe for proper Parisian macaroons. We decided to use one of our signature flavors, honey and fresh thyme, for the outside of our bûche, with a layer of tonka-bean mousse and a center of apricot sorbet for acidity and pizzazz.”

“Do you like sandwiches?" he asked. "At this point, I think I'd eat anything. Other than rabbit. I'm not excessively fond of rabbit." "Or anything with eyes," he said, charming her by remembering. "I've an appetite for beef, some bread, mustard, and ale." At her look, he smiled. "I have a schoolboy's tastes. It's what I lived on in England. I still crave it from time to time." Hustle's staff must have been prepared for his cravings because within a quarter hour they were seated in his sitting room with a large tray on the table between them. She was dressed in one of his blue dressing gowns and he wore a black patterned one. She tucked her feet beneath her as, one by one, he took the domed lids from a succession of plates, each smelling better than the one before. When he came to the cake, a delicious looking confection filled with nuts and fruit, she glanced up at him. "I want cake," she said. "Before anything healthful or beneficial." "Cake it is, then," he said, cutting a piece and handing it to her. She closed her eyes after the first forkful. The taste was heavenly, light and airy yet filled with nuts and chopped apricots. When she opened her eyes, it was to find him watching her. "I love cake," she said, embarrassed. "I love sweets." "What about rabbit cake?" "Oh, that would pose a problem for me." He smiled and she felt it down to her toes.”

“Herman and I have been doing a lot of talking about the cake the past couple of days, and we think we have a good plan for the three tiers. The bottom tier will be the chocolate tier and incorporate the dacquoise component, since that will all provide a good strong structural base. We are doing an homage to the Frango mint, that classic Chicago chocolate that was originally produced at the Marshall Field's department store downtown. We're going to make a deep rich chocolate cake, which will be soaked in fresh-mint simple syrup. The dacquoise will be cocoa based with ground almonds for structure, and will be sandwiched between two layers of a bittersweet chocolate mint ganache, and the whole tier will be enrobed in a mint buttercream. The second tier is an homage to Margie's Candies, an iconic local ice cream parlor famous for its massive sundaes, especially their banana splits. It will be one layer of vanilla cake and one of banana cake, smeared with a thin layer of caramelized pineapple jam and filled with fresh strawberry mousse. We'll cover it in chocolate ganache and then in sweet cream buttercream that will have chopped Luxardo cherries in it for the maraschino-cherry-on-top element. The final layer will be a nod to our own neighborhood, pulling from the traditional flavors that make up classical Jewish baking. The cake will be a walnut cake with hints of cinnamon, and we will do a soaking syrup infused with a little bit of sweet sherry. A thin layer of the thick poppy seed filling we use in our rugelach and hamantaschen, and then a layer of honey-roasted whole apricots and vanilla pastry cream. This will get covered in vanilla buttercream.”

“The citrusy tang of lemon floods the mouth! At the same time, the rich aroma of almond tickles the nose! Both flavors are seamlessly brought together with no bitterness or clashing at all! It's sweet and mild and fragrant! I can feel it awakening the heart of a maiden within me! "I chose a Biscuit Joconde for the sponge cake because it matched so well with the almond pralines. It gives even the cake layer the aroma of almonds, without disturbing the flavor balance in the least.”

“Let's grab something for you from the kitchen, and then we'll go find Magnus." The "something" turned out to be a wedge of the most amazing cake he'd ever tasted. It had cream in the middle, a crust of honey and almonds on top. He crammed half a wedge into his mouth and moaned aloud. "Damn, that's good," he said around the mouthful. "Damn." "I already ordered it for my wedding breakfast," said Tess. "It's called Bienenstich- bee sting cake," said Isabel, coming into the kitchen. "Appropriate, under the circumstances." He turned to face her, his cheeks stuffed with food like a chipmunk's. Then he swallowed the bite of food. "It's delicious. Did you make it?" he asked, not taking his eyes off her. While Tess had red hair and freckles, Isabel had olive-toned skin, dark eyes and full lips, like a flamenco dancer or maybe an Italian film star swathed in veils. "I did," she said. "It's a German tradition.”

“Moist cake, fresh blueberries, and melt-in-the-mouth frosting. "Best ever." He understood her slow savoring and the licking of her lips. "I could eat blueberry butter cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner," she confessed. She tapped her fork on the plate, encouraging him. "There's plenty; have a second bite." He shook his head; she was his indulgence. All happy, uninhibited, and turned on by cake. "I enjoy dessert now and again," he conceded. "But I'm more of a meat-and-potato guy." "There's steak and eggs on our breakfast menu," she said. "Gram makes amazing home fries. Sliced potatoes, chopped onions, and sweet bell peppers cooked in bacon fat. Don't get me started on her buttermilk biscuits.”

“I can see blue sky over the lake and a pale beam of sunlight on the water. The rain has stopped. I take a bite of the cake, closing my eyes and savoring the delicate flavor and the sudden calm with a sense of relief. I'll worry about how I'm going to save the farm later. Right now I want to enjoy my cake and the satisfaction of having made my decision, having chosen my right hard thing. I take another bite of cake, and another. Every one tastes like olive oil and orange blossoms, earthy and honest and a little bittersweet.”

“This broth! How can it be this rich and mellow?! It's just creamy enough to go perfectly with the noodles too! And this savory flavor! It's so deep and expansive!" "I grated some potato and added it to the stock. That's what's giving the broth its creaminess. Believe it or not, the potato is another vegetable that contains the umami compound glutamic acid. That compound seeped out into the broth, giving it it's rich and savory flavor. Plus, I only grated the potato roughly, so there are still little beads of potato in the broth, giving the texture some interesting highlights." "But what about this topping? What is it?! Hnngh! I knew it! Imo-Mochi Potato Cakes! They're soft and chewy on the inside and crisp and crunchy on the outside!" Imo-Mochi Potato Cakes are another Hokkaido specialty. Made with potatoes and potato starch, they're a popular treat with tourists. The heavy, chewy potato cakes soaked in the creamy broth are a pleasing textural contrast... ... to the light and sleek udon noodles while also giving the dish an extra sense of fullness and satisfaction! "Unbelievable. It's almost as if this one dish... ... contains all the expressions of a potato possible in cooking!" "Exactly! Y'see, this dish---" "This dish uses all facets of the Irish Cobbler Potato, accenting its starch, its unique texture and its umami goodness. In fact, it can be considered the ultimate in potato-noodle dishes!”

“Kai slices the cake, his version of the banana cake I have always talked about. He has made a vanilla sponge cake, soaked in vanilla simple syrup, and layered with sliced fresh bananas and custard. There is a central layer of dark chocolate ganache with bits of crispy pecans and toffee, and the whole thing is covered in chocolate buttercream, with extravagant curls of chocolate and chocolate-dipped banana slices piled in the middle. I accept a thin slice, savoring the flavors, both of the cake, and of simple joy.”

“And this is Isabella's nonna's, made with the whole Moro orange from her grove--- pulped into the mix and no dusting, no glaze. Plain." "You mean perfect," says Isabella, scolding Luca. There was no doubting Isabella's would win. The pulp added something even softer and more luscious to the crumb. If the cake we had yesterday, warm from the oven, was divine, this was magic. "I told you," says Luca. "The orange."”

“She couldn't see the homemade colored sprinkles, the tender yellow cake, or the pale pink frosting made with strawberry syrup enhanced with a little rosewater. Although our local strawberries weren't in season yet, I had conjured the aroma and taste of juicy berries warmed by the sun. I hoped this flavor would help the two old people return once more to their youth and the carefree feeling of a summer day.”

“The difference between superlative pie and a wish for cake is crust. Understand that pie is a generous but self-centered substance. It likes attention, not affection. Do not hug your crust. Do not rub its back or five its high. Don't fuss with refrigerators every step oft he way. Keep the water and butter cold, and remember what a wise baker once said: The goal is pie.”

“Thursday night is pasta night," I say. "I left you guys a lasagna Bolognese, garlic knots, and roasted broccolini. Ian is going to make the Caesar salad table side." Thursday is the day I come in only to train Ian, so on Wednesdays I always leave something for an easy pasta night. Either a baked dish, or a sauce and parboiled pasta for easy finishing, some prepped salad stuff, and a simple dessert. "Awesome. Does the lasagna have the chunks of sausage in it?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Robert Adam Farber, would I leave you a lasagna without chunks of sausage in it?" I say with fake insult in my voice. "No, El, you totally have my back on all things meat. What's for dessert?" "Lemon olive oil cake with homemade vanilla bean gelato.”