And then some days, you just get disgusted. I was talking to someone on an online dating site, I won’t tell you which one, except that it rhymes with Hague’slist. I’m charmed by the man I’m talking to. He’s erudite, he’s witty, and when he finally sent me a picture, he was old enough to be my grandpa. (Except you sir, are not as good looking as either my Black Irish or my 1/8th African American Grandpa.)
In honor of him, it was time to make chocolate cake. And, yeah, I know–it’s just one piece. Something, uh, happened to the rest.*
To make a really moist cake, you don’t need an oven. You need a rice cooker.
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