Fire Truck Cake!

Months ago Master K and I discovered the joys of YouTube (and just this morning, gasp, he has worked out how to use the mouse, so he will soon be surfing all on his own!). Having multiple computer monitors, downtime on YouTube has meant that Mommy can simultaneously check email while Master K keeps up on the latest "diggers and dump trucks and fire trucks and cranes" (his requested YouTube search). And in the course of one such search, we found a video, an 8-minute wonder of domesticity. This video has repeatedly kept both my husband and son rapt, as they watch two women make a cake.

You see, it's not just any cake -- it's a scarlet red Fire Truck Cake: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kuXQVAg4Cqk

Well we were pretty blue last weekend, so we decided to focus our energies on replicating the YouTubian wonders of this cake. Dad and son were the primary forces behind the baking; in the tradition of many moms before this one, I quietly kept the kitchen from falling apart during the experiment, laying out ingredients, setting up the mixer, and making a quick run to Duane Reade for off-the-shelf frosting when Mister A's butter-heavy homemade efforts resulted in a gooey glop not fit for any self-respecting firefighting vehicle.

The boys had fun mixing:

And, frosting:

You may notice that they did not quite achieve Betty Crocker's scarlet red hue -- this, despite squeezing an entire tube of red food dye into the frosting. Mister A realized we didn't have nearly enough frosting (or patience) to "crumb coat" the cake, as the video advises, which involves smoothing on a preliminary layer of frosting and refrigerating until it is hard enough for a second coat. We persevered with the production. The truck came out a kind of "hot salmon" color, but we were not deterred. We had some friends over and gorged on the fenders and rear. One friend was of the frank sort, and soon informed us that the cake was dry to the point of inedibility. We were not deterred. Our friend's son stripped the cake of its gummy-bear flashers and popped off two of its Oreo-wheels. But it was still beautiful, if a tad droopy, because it was our Fire Truck Cake. After several days (and no more dining invites to ingrates posing as friends), we had to retire the front-end of the cake to the trash, but only after solemnly eating the frosting windows and front wheels. Master K has continued to ask for more Fire Truck Cake, so I think Mister A has his work cut out for him come third birthday in September...