Flour on the Floor: If love is a loaded gun, what is marriage?

Seventeen years ago, I met a stranger in the park. It was a Saturday and I was on the shore of Lake Ivanhoe in Orlando trying to get some sun before going out with friends that night as a newly-single. Six days prior I had broken off a year-long engagement. I wasn’t looking to meet anyone when a guy started playing fetch with my poodle--that’s no euphemism, the dog my ex had given me was running around unleashed in and out of the water, a soggy, sandy, poodle mess. His ball whizzed past me and I looked up to see a scruffy guy I didn’t know bending down to wait for my dog to bring it back.

He caught my eye and asked if the pup was mine; considering that we were the only two people in that part of the park, it was a pretty safe bet. He started talking to me and finally asked if he could sit down. As I sat there in my bikini, my first thought was: crap, I haven’t shaved. My second thought was: how quickly can I reach the keychain tear-gas in my bag? We struck up a great conversation about grad school (I was days from finishing my Master’s) and Boston (he had just moved to Florida from there). Nine months later we were engaged.

It was a short courtship but I had no doubts about marrying him. What I did have doubts about was how long it would last. It wasn’t Austin-specific, it was just the way I had learned to approach all romantic relationships--as short-term and fun while they lasted. It’s not you, it’s me. We planned our wedding with me all the while thinking, “He’ll make a nice first husband.”

I was not a little girl who cut out pictures of wedding dresses or scribbled my first name with different boys’ last names. My Barbie and Ken never tied the knot; they were perpetually dating, him needing to work to keep her interested. My list of crushes was too long for even my best friends to remember.

I didn’t imagine marriage as something aspirational. I’m logic-driven and there were just too many data points suggesting a weak link between matrimony and long-term happiness. In the early eighties, the United States divorce rate hit its peak. My parents contributed to that statistic when they split In 1981. In fact, my entire family was a mixed mess of marital examples. One brother married before I was born and has stayed that way while the other strode the aisle five times. My mom remarried only to be widowed while my dad said, “I do” four times.

Overall, it seemed that there were so many ways for things to go wrong and so few ways to get it right. What are the odds that over a lifetime you will grow and develop at the exact same rate and in the same direction as the person that you chose so many years ago? Undoubtedly, the characteristics you look for in a partner in your 20’s are different than those you’ll want later. Being compatible before life applies pressure--when it’s light-hearted fun and late nights and starting new careers--is much easier. But years pass and parents age, kids get sick, jobs are lost; this is when true nature is developed or revealed. By then it’s too late, you’re already married.

When I confessed to my dad that I didn’t have much faith in the idea of growing old with someone, he said, “Sweetheart, marriage is wonderful,” before smiling and adding, “In fact, I like it so much I just keep doing it over and over again!” I marveled that Dad could still be so hopeful about the enterprise; it seemed foolhardy. I feared ending up like him. I maintained control in my relationships, choosing men that I thought were incapable of hurting me, giving less than I got, loving less than I was loved.

I read once that love is like a loaded gun that you hand to someone else, telling them, “Shoot me if you must.” I think it accurately conveys the vulnerability and leap of faith (and with those statistics, the leap past common sense) necessary. I joked to my boyfriend at the time that I’d hand over the gun but only while secretly wearing a bulletproof vest. He corrected me and said, “Really you’re just wearing a ghost shirt.” Um, okay. I had to look that one up (I do so love the smart ones!), to discover he was referring to clothing that the Lakota Sioux wore into battle that purported to provide spiritual protection from bullets; more than 150 Sioux died in battle wearing them. My boyfriend was telling me that though I could fool myself, I wasn’t really protected from loving deeply.

Fifteen years into my marriage, I know that he was right. I’m still a little gun-shy--I don’t forecast too far into the future but I also can’t imagine my life without my husband. Like my girlhood Ken doll, Austin still woos. He makes me laugh and think. We stay up late sharing conversations after parties, filling each other in; we play games and trash talk each other relentlessly; we make up funny new lyrics to pop songs and dance with our kids; we have inside-jokes and serious talks. He’s still my best audience--I am my most smart, funny, silly, pretty, happy self when I am with him. And though I don’t think about 10 or 20 years from now, everyday I keep choosing him over and over again.

The same week that we celebrated 15 years, my writing group leaders, Steve and Sharon, toasted their 30th. Being around them and seeing the pleasure they take in each other’s company, their give and take of ideas, their laughter and eye-rolling, it’s easy to see how 15 years becomes 30 and eventually a lifetime. They are a good example.

I’ve spent just about every Tuesday night of the past four years in Steve and Sharon’s living room, drinking up their tea and encouragement. It’s only fitting that I finally bake for them. And what dessert to better evoke nuptial bliss than a mock wedding cake? I make Baking Illustrated’s classic white layer cake with butter frosting and raspberry almond filling (recipe below).  Wedding cakes are traditionally white to signify purity. But let’s face it, after thirty years of marriage, everyone’s bound to be a little bit sullied. Even more reason to eat cake.

Before you glance at the photo of the finished cake I produced, allow me to offer a disclaimer: I have no idea how to use the decorating kit my son got me. None. That’s why my cake yielded the following questions:

-"Why does it say 3-D?”

-"OM as in the meditation chant?”

-"What does OE stand for?”

-"Mom, can’t you make anything but those little stars?”

My response is the same for all: that sounds like a question someone who doesn’t want a piece of cake would ask. When I present the dessert at our writing group, Sharon says that she and Steve never actually had a wedding cake. I’m so happy to be able to offer this innocently white and deceptively delicious stand-in. They send me home with some leftovers which I spend the next three days eating. Isn’t that a perk of wedlock--not worrying as much about how you look?

Marriage, with its mix of joy and compromise, takes work. Every milestone is hard-earned--Steven and Sharon’s, mine and Austin’s. It’s impossible to predict the person I would have become without Austin’s tender guidance. So I tentatively say to my ever-patient, ever-loving husband, “Here’s to another 15, my love.”

Classic White Layer Cake with Butter Frosting and Raspberry Almond Filling

ingredients

Cake-

2 1/4 cups flour, plus more for dusting the pans

1 cup whole milk, at room temperature

6 large egg whites, at room temperature

2 teaspoons almond extract (or slightly less to taste)

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 3/4 cups granulated sugar

4 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon table salt

12 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened but still cool

Frosting -

16 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened but still cool

4 cups confectioner's sugar

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon whole milk

pinch table salt

extra sliced almonds for garnish

Filling -

1/2 cup blanched slivered almonds, toasted and coarsely chopped

1/3 cup seedless raspberry jam

preparation

1. Set oven rack in middle position and pre-heat to 350.

2. Spray 2 9-inch cake pans with non-stick spray, place parchment rounds on bottom of pans, spray parchment rounds, and dust whole pans with flour, tapping out excess (I used non-stick spray with flour)

3. Pour milk, egg whites, and extracts in 2-cup measure, mix with fork until blended

4. Mix flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in bowl of electric mixer at slow speed. Add butter, continue beating at slow speed until mixture resembles moist crumbs.

5. Add all but 1/2 Cup of milk mixture and beat at medium speed for 1 1/2 minutes. Add remaining 1/2 Cup of milk mixture and beat 30 seconds more. Scrape down sides and beat another 20 seconds on medium.

6. Divide batter evenly between 2 pans, making sure batter is spread to sides and top is smooth. Arrange pans at least 3 inches apart and bake until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, about 23-25 minutes

7. Let the cakes rest 3 minutes, loosen cake from sides of pan if necessary and invert onto wire racks. Reinvert and let cool completely, about 1 1/2 hour.

8. For the Frosting: Beat butter, confectioners' sugar, vanilla, milk, and salt in bowl of electric mixer at slow speed until sugar is moistened. Increase speed to medium-high, beat, stopping twice to scrape down bowl, until creamy and fluffy, about 1 1/2 minutes. Avoid overbeating

9. For the Filling: Combine 1/2 cup of frosting with the toasted chopped almonds and spread over the first layer. Carefully spread the jam on top, then cover with second cake layer. Spread frosting over top and sides of assembled cake. If enough frosting left over, pipe around perimeter of cake at base and top.

Read More http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/member/views/CLASSIC-WHITE-LAYER-CAKE-WITH-BUTTER-FROSTING-AND-RASPBERRY-ALMOND-FILLING-50005367#ixzz2ZVNl6hBc