I'd Like to Thank . . .

Back on Thursday I got this terrific news from my editor! I wanted to save it till now to send out concurrently with the newsletter. (Okay, it wasn't really a headline -- just my fun.) But seriously, huge thanks to all of you for giving Elizabeth such a boost!!

And to thank you all, I'm herewith announcing another CONTEST! All through this month, every time you make a comment on this blog, I'll put your name in the hat-- or the basket or the hermetically sealed mayonnaise jar. On July 1, a lucky winner will be drawn. The prize is the right to name a character in my work in progress -- for yourself, a pet, a friend (only with the friend's consent.)

There are two characters in DARK SEASON named by people who won the right in auctions or raffles -- Lee Pallatt and James Suttles. I had fun with both of them. A friend gave the right to Lee as a gift and Larry Suttles won the right and asked me to commemorate his father James. Of course, I wouldn't give your name to an evil person -- unless you requested it!

And finally, here's a link to the slideshow of pictures pertaining to DARK SEASON. (The computer and I got along fine at the library talk this evening.)

TODAY’S INAPPROPRIATE COMMENT

One of my responsibilities during our Shabbat morning services is to serve as Gabbai, standing at the side of the reading table during the Torah service.

There are two Gabbaim: Gabbai Aleph and Gabbai Bet. Gabbai Aleph reads the introductory blessings, announces those who are called up to the Torah, reads the Mi Shebeirakh prayer for the sick, and (in our congregation) recites Kaddish after completion of the main Torah reading. Gabbai Bet announces the page and verse numbers for each reading. Both Gabbaim read along in a printed text while the Ba’al Koreh (reader) reads from the Torah scroll, correcting the reader as the occasion demands.

Most Saturdays, I function as Gabbai Bet, a post that was honorably filled for many years by Gravel-Voice Larry before his untimely passing. But I can handle the other side of the reading table as well. On Mondays and Thursdays, I’m generally Gabbai Aleph.

There will often be breaks between each Torah reading on Shabbat. The rabbi may deliver a sermon, or a speaker may give a talk on a particular subject. During these breaks, the Gabbaim sit down and wait for the Torah service to resume.

This morning, at the end of one such break, as I resumed my position on the left side of the reading table, I leaned over and said, sotto voce, to the other Gabbai: “Okay, coffee break’s over - back on your head.”

Good thing we Jews don’t believe in Hell, ’cause I’d be going right there...

Baseball ready

I love the term "Baseball Ready" and it's a good thing because it's all I hear these days. Before I get into that though, let me say this. Things have been busy here. Crazy busy. I just downloaded over 200 pictures from my camera, and that's only from the last three days. I tend to take a LOT of pictures in order to get a few good ones, you know.



I need to post about a lot of things, but for now, here's a quick wrap up from the week.


The dog threw up and pooped in the house, on different days.



Our front door fell off. Completely. I should have taken a picture of that but I forgot while I was hyperventilating.



When my Land Rover died last week, I had a rental car for a couple of days and when I turned it back in, I accidently left my garage door opener in it. When I went back to find it, turns out they have a huge box FULL of garage door openers. Who knew? So, with the front door broken and the garage door opener missing, I had a hard time getting in my house. Did I panic? YES.



My older son, Donny, who's eleven-years-old has discovered he needs braces and glasses. Luckily he was cool about both and isn't freaking out...although his mother, (yes, ME) who saw the bills for both, has been on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He has also made the decion to start playing football for the first time and will be starting the trombone in middle school band. Did I mention he starts middle school in the fall? I'm feeling old, but my birth certificate swears I'm 31. I think it's just trying to placate me so I don't start growing grey hair yet.



I dumped a cup full of bird seed down my shirt by accident when I was refilling the bird feeder. Apparently our birds are ravenous, bottomless-stomached beasts. I was sweaty at the time and that darn bird seed stuck like clingwrap. I'm sure there's still some in my bra...I lose things in my more than ample bosom all the time.



I'm having to wash sheets on three different beds because everyone had urine accidents over the last two days. Well, not everyone. The dog and I managed to contain our bladders. Oh, and hubby too.



OH, and this ball has been hanging from my ceiling for about two weeks now. Anyone want to take bets on how much longer it will remain up there?








Yesterday, my six-year-old Remy had another game. His team, the Cubs, played the Giants. Here he is on the field, twirling.




We decided to bring Annie to the game with us because she loves being with the boys. She was pretty good, and it was really hot.

Here's one of those "Baseball Ready" positions. My Remy makes it to first base every time. He's a good hitter.

But, when it's his team's turn at the outfield, he sometimes gets a little bored. You see, not all 5 and 6 year olds are good hitters, so sometimes there's no action in the field...

Annie kept getting caught up in her leash. She didn't know how to handle it, so she was just look at us, panting, and freeze...not sure what to do. We had to take pity on her and untangle her.

over and over and over again. I think it was her version of Doggy Twister.

Here's my man, who drove an hour in bad traffic from Dallas, where he is a family attorney by day, to the baseball fields in suburbia to watch his son play. What a sweetie! He was really hot in that suit. I was sweating in my tank top.

Annie did it again. Maybe she needs to go to doggy school or something...

Look at Remy make this awesome catch! He's playing first base, and he caught this ball and got the other team's runner out. YAY, Remy!! Awesome play!! Love the expression on his face.

Here's the soon-to-be braces-wearing, glasses-wearing, trombone-playing, football-player, AKA, my older son, Donny, who is in dire need of a haircut, but he likes it long.

And, he took pity on Annie and untied her so she could go run around with him during the game a little. I love that color shirt on Donny. It looks so good with his coloring and brings out his blue eyes.

And, that's the end of the game and this long post...but I'll leave you with one last picture. Notice what my son is holding onto, besides his glove.
They start young, don't they?

The Creepy Garden

After exiling the foul-smelling arum dracunculus (of yesterday's post) to a suitably distant spot, I decided to make a "creepy" garden. Spurred on by the memory of a Charles Addams cartoon in which the elegantly creepy mother of the Addams family is writing to her absent husband, "The garden is at its best now --the dealy nightshade and belladonna are in bloom and the little toads have hatched." ( Or words to that effect -- it's been a very long time), I tried to think of plants that looked creepy or had creepy names. I tried toad lily, but it died. I planted every thing black or near-black, that I could find and also Crocosmia "Lucifer" and spiderwort.



The creepy garden is not yet a visual success -- things bloom at different times and there's no real focus. But I keep fiddling with it. I'm open to suggestions for additions -- this is very rich soil, mostly sunny all day.

The black pussy willow is a delight in spring -- but the rest of the summer it's just a nondescript shrub.

That's the problem: things come and go and there's never a moment when it all works as a garden. I think as things grow and multiply, if I can have bigger stands of each individual plant, it will have more ooomph. Till then, I'll just have to keep explaining it.


Picture of other plants in the creepy garden are here .

ONE: A 100-WORD THEOLOGICAL TREATISE

It’s a simple concept, really.

Sh’ma Yisroel, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad. Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is unique.

Other cultures had their pantheons, packed with gods of every description. All of them loosely modeled on humans and replete with the whole laundry list of human frailties. Envy, jealousy, hatred, lust, greed, you name it. So complicated. And so wrong.

“All things being equal, the simplest solution tends to be the best one.” William of Ockham said that. My idea, of course. Everything’s my idea, at the end of the day.

One God. That’s Me. What could be simpler?

[The 100 Word Stories Podcast celebrates its third anniversary today with Weekly Challenge #111, the theme of which is One.]

NUTS

O, horrible poems, I know I’ve wrote ’em,
But at least I’ve not written one about my scrotum.

Sure, I’ve written about Painful Rectal Itch,
A condition that most find an Obnoxious Bitch,
Or an even more evil and heinous complaint:
The dreaded Warhead that resides on the Taint.

I’ve rhapsodized on the strange, perverse beauty
Of crapping a perfectly Tapered Doodie,
Written verse on techniques for the Wipeage of Butts,
But at least I’ve avoided the Sack ’round my Nuts.

The Wrinkly Bag with the Crown Jewels inside,
That under the Meat-Stick doth happily ride,
Well, it “tain’t” a fit subject for song or doggerel
Unless the Author has slipped a coggerel.

HARVEY KORMAN, RIP

Harvey Korman, who cracked people up for years in sketches on “The Carol Burnett Show” and in Mel Brooks’s films, died yesterday at the age of 81 from complications of a ruptured aortic aneurysm.

Korman’s work with Carol Burnett - often paired with Tim Conway - garnered him four Emmy awards. I’m old enough to remember watching that show when it was in its original run beginning in 1967, and Korman was side-splittingly funny. But his IMDB resumé is loaded with television and film roles, even including voice-over work on “The Flintstones,” on which he portrayed The Great Gazoo.

He’s the second big icon of 1960’s television to die this week, having been preceded in the Big Sleep by Dick Martin, the “Martin” half of the team behind the groundbreaking series “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In.”

Throw in Sydney Pollack, who died Monday after a lengthy career as an actor, director, and producer, and Hollywood has hit a Death-Trifecta this week. The loss of these three is a real blow to the entertainment industry...and, especially in the case of Korman and Martin, another nail in the coffin of my youth. Oy.

Ave atque vale, gentlemen. We’ll miss you.

[Be sure to stop by and read the tributes posted by Erica and Big Stupid Tommy.]

FUZZY FRIDAY RANDOM TEN

Friday at last!

Let’s get some of the routine Housekeeping Matters out of the way. The Friday Ark, now embarked on its 193rd voyage, has been posted at the Modulator. And the Carnival of the Cats, that weekly Feline Foofaraw, will be hosted by Kashim and Othello over at The Catboys Realm. So now you know what to do if you neet a Cat-Fix Sunday evening.

And now we can move on to the Main Event: the Friday Random Ten. Ten musical selections, picked by the Hand o’ Fate from the electronic brain of my iPod. What’s playing this week?

1. Spanish Key - Miles Davis
   
   Perhaps my favorite cut from the landmark Bitches Brew album. You will have heard it if you ever saw the movie Collateral, in which Tom Cruise played against type as a cold-blooded hitman.
   
   
2. Beauty Killed the Beast - James Newton Howard, King Kong (2005)
   
   
3. Dead London - Jeff Wayne
   
   
4. Gehn’s Theme - Robin Miller
   
   Creepy music from the video game Myst II: Riven.
   
   
5. I Can Change - South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut
   
   Saddam Hussein’s big moment from the South Park movie soundtrack, one of the funniest - and most obscene - collections of songs ever.
   
   
6. Piggy Pig Pig - Procol Harum
   
   
7. I’m the Slime - Frank Zappa
   
   
8. Scene 13: One Wheel Spinning - Philip Glass, Les Enfants Terribles
   
   
9. I See a River - Urinetown - Original Cast Album
   
   
10. Big Black Mariah - Tom Waits
    
    

It’s Friday. What are you listening to?

Update: CotC #220 is up.

Arum Dracunculus

I'm a sucker for weird looking plants. Add a name like 'dracunculus' which means 'dragon' and I'm filling in the order blank.

The three innocent-looking bulbs were cheap (I now realize that means the plant self-propagates wildly) and I planted them near the entryway, the better to enjoy their exotic blooms. They did not disappoint -- chartreuse and deep purple buds unfurled into a vast spathe the color of raw liver. And the spadix - the pointy thing in the middle -- well, it was pretty impressive. The plant was immediately re-named, vividly and alliteratively, for a part of a dog's anatomy.

"What's that smell?" we said, when the sun hit the newly opened flowers. "The dogs must have brought home something dead."

We followed our noses to the arum dracunculus to discover the source of the awful odor. This plant (there are others) chooses to be pollinated by flies, rather than bees or butterflies, and so, rather than smelling like honey, it smells like carrion. (The bulb nursery I ordered it from didn't mention that part.)

My husband suggested gently that I get rid of the plant or at least move it away from the house -- far away. And that was the beginning of my Creepy Garden -- more on that tomorrow.

Among arum dracunculus's common names, I have discovered, are Voodoo Lily, Snake Lily, and Stink Lily. All quite good and descriptive. But it'll always be the Dog Dick plant to us.

JUST ME: A 100-WORD ELEGY

Ever since I can remember, there were two of us: my sister and me. We almost never spent a day apart.

Got along pretty well most of the time, especially when we were little. But as you get older, you sometimes get a little more crotchety, a little more set in your ways. Sis was no exception.

Some might say she was a tad controlling, and maybe she was. Telling me when to eat, where I could sit. “Grey Hitler,” I’d call her, but never to her face.

She’s gone now. There’s just me, alone. I miss my sister Matata.




[The 100 Word Stories Podcast celebrates its third anniversary tomorrow with Weekly Challenge #111, the theme of which is One.]

MR. DEBONAIR’S GOURMET CORNER

Traveling the world in search of the exotic and unusual is Mr. Debonair’s bread and butter. When a rare or unfamiliar dish shows up on the menu, he will, often as not, try it so that he will be able to share the experience with his Esteemed Readers.

Turning up his nose at Scary Food - like Singaporean Fish Head Curry, for example - is not an option. It’s all in a day’s work.

Recently, Mr. Debonair had the chance to savor a really unusual treat: Ocean Oysters.

“But, Mr. Debonair!” you will say. “Oysters do not grow in the ocean! They prefer intertidal or subtidal zones!”

True enough, Mister Wikipediapants. But Rocky Mountain oysters (AKA Calf Fries), while they may be found in the Rocky Mountains, are not oysters at all...and neither are their aquatic cousins, Ocean Oysters.

Ocean Oysters are nothing more (or less) than whale testicles. A delicacy! And big enough to satisfy any gourmand, because the average blue whale testicle is the size of a Volkswagen Beetle.

[The blue whale balzac? Think of a wrinkly raisin, magnified to the dimensions of a small Quonset hut and encased in a thick coating of blubber.]

Cooking one of these Big Boys takes some effort. The usual preparation is to slice the whale testicle into two-inch-thick cross-sections, using a band saw. These can then be subdivided into smaller steaks, each the diameter of a dinner plate. Breaded and fried (in whale oil, of course!), a single Ocean Oyster steak makes a whopping big Dinner Entrée. As with a chicken-fried steak, cream gravy is an appropriate accompaniment.

Now, if only we Americans can get over our silly hang-ups about harvesting and consuming whale protein, we can give them Prime Ribs of Beef a run for their money...

Outside My Door

Over two wonderful, glorious, much-needed inches of rain on Tuesday night bowed the branches of the Kousa dogwood so that its creamy white flowers were a beautiful sight against the subtle grays of the morning mist and the intense emerald and jade of foliage renewed.

This little fella (a Rosy Maple moth) was on the steps to our porch, apparently lifeless. I picked him up to bring him inside where I could get a good picture of his Dr. Seuss-like coloring. As I held him, he began to quiver. It had been a chilly night and now the warmth of my hand seemed to revive him. He may have been new-hatched too; he beat his wings continuously as if drying them.

Click on the picture for a close-up of that cute face (and the color! OMG, the color!) and the pretty feathery antennae (one of the ways you can tell he's a moth, not a butterfly.)

I'm off to the library to practice with a slide show of photos pertaining to In a Dark Season. If technology and I don't quarrel too badly, I hope the slides will accompany my talk Saturday night at seven. And I hope I'll see some of you all there, slides or no.

A Blogging Identity Crisis

I'm having an identity crisis. I want to change my blog around, but I need imput from readers. I have been changing profile and header pictures like it's a game of musical chairs, and I think it would be best if I found something good and stuck with it.

The current name of my blog is Word Tangle with the quote "A swirl of words tangled with human emotions." Writing is my biggest passion, so I was going with that theme. However, now that I've been at this a few months, I have different ideas.

I think it would be good to focus on Texas as a theme as well as writing. I'm a native Texan. I've lived here all my life. I grew up on a ranch, I lived in Austin (the capital city) for years, and I love Texas. So, should I come up with a new blog title focusing on this? I think it would draw readers in...and my goal is to attract readers and have fun with this...all the while fulfilling my need to write and entertain people with stories.

Hmmmm...How about Texas Word Wrangler? (It makes me picture a lasso roping up a herd of words). I like it.

What about Texas Ink Slinger? Or Texas Storyteller? I just don't know. I need to ponder on it some more. Any good ideas? My creative juices have melted in this heat wave we've had lately.

Then there's the header (the picture at the top of the blog, for those of you who don't speak Blog). This field of flowers has been my header for a while now:

And, then, yesterday I went and changed it to this water scene:

My fingers are itching though, and I could just as easily have this barn as a new header by tomorrow....what do you think?
Or this iron state of Texas sign could be a good header....I've used it as a profile picture before.

I'd love a Texas themed header. Ideally, I'd like a row of boots...colorful, worn-in, faded old cowboy boots lined up in a row. I'd really like that, but haven't found a picture that meets my expectations for it yet.

Then there's the issue of my profile picture. These are some of the cowgirls I've been using.

This is the cartoon cowgirl. She's fun...but perhaps not what I'm looking for. It's a little too youthful.

This next cowgirl is sexy and vintage, definitely more mature...but not exactly right either.

This one's cute too...I'm using her currently but maybe, here's a real novel idea, I need to use a real photo of ME? You tell me...do you prefer cutesy profile pics that obviously aren't the person in real life or do you prefer to see the real person behind the blog? I could always dude myself up, curl my hair and put on a cowboy hat to do my own cowgirl photo...what do you think?

So, as you can see, I'm having a major identity crisis. I want to change my blog, and this is your change to give me some imput. I can't promise I'll like it or use it, but I'll listen for sure.

Help a writing Texas cowgirl out, y'all. Yeehaaaw!!

PROPAGREENDA

[Click to embiggen.]

Hilary Price must’ve read this post.

RIGHT YOU ARE, KID

This morning, in addition to helping She Who Must Be Obeyed schlep her school stuff from her old classroom to her new one - a task made more complicated by the fact that she will be teaching in a different school next year - I had the honor of attending a b’rith milah, a ritual circumcision, a tradition amongst us Jews that goes back at least 3,700 years.

The baby - the Guest of Honor at this sort of affair - is the grandson of Hank, one of my Minyan Buddies. Said Hank has three handsome and intelligent sons, all of whom are happily married off to lovely young ladies and all of whom are dutifully engaged in the business of cranking out Progeny. Kein ayin hara, it’s a wonderful family, and my friend and his wife are blessed with several beautiful granddaughters...and now a grandson.

So this morning, after the usual morning Minyan, a pack of us drive down to Hank’s in-laws (also friends from shul), where the ceremony will be conducted. There’s a good-sized mob of guests, including three rabbis (one of whom is the mohel, the guy who will actually perform the surgery) and a passel of grandkids, nieces, and nephews.

The baby is brought in with the appropriate blessings and is placed in Elijah’s Chair to be ooohed and aaaahed over before being taken up and handed to the sandek, upon whose lap he will be placed for the ceremony. The sandek, in this case, is none other than Grandpa Hank.

And then, just before the Moment of Truth, a gentle Juvenile Voice pipes up from the Peanut Gallery:

“Uh-oh!”

At which, of course, the crowd erupts in peals of laughter. Right you are, kid!

Meanwhile, the little guy hardly even complains. When he sees all those Home Movies in future years, however, it may well be a different story.

Rhea of Sunshine

My name is pronounced RAY or RAY-AH. Just a friendly reminder. Ree-ah is NOT correct. RAY of Sunshine, like the subject line, get it?

So, the Texas heat has turned up a notch, and we are cookin' now. It's dadgum hot! And, the best way to handle the heat is to spend time in the cold water swimming.

Are you a swimmer or a side-of-the-pool lounger? I love to get a good book and lie by the pool, but I have to be IN the water most of the time these days with the boys.

Speaking of boys...we have an entire pool bag loaded up with pool toys. We have a few of those awesome toypedos, sea animals that move through the water with batteries, dive sticks, goggles galore and various other pool fun items, but guess what the boys spent an hour playing with in the pool just the other day? Pennies!! Amazing, huh? I kept throwing them and they kept diving for them. It was amazing. Like a dog playing fetch with a tennis ball. Glad we spent all that money on pool toys, huh?

The boys also love the diving board. They can jump over and over and over again. I wish I had some good pictures to share. Remy's newest jump was called "the flying squirrel" and it looked awesome...until he landed in the water, and that looked like it HURT.

Do you use sunscreen? I sure hope so! Did you know you are supposed to put it on 20 minutes or more before going into the sun? It needs time to dry and soak in...otherwise it's not as effective. Did you know that sunscreen expires? Look on your bottle. It should show an expiration date somewhere. I buy new sunscreen each summer.

I am fanatical about sunscreen due to moles. I have so many of them I can't keep up! And, I go to a dermatologist yearly to have them looked at. I've had some removed and found to be atypical, but not melanoma, thank goodness. I know many people who have had little moles turn out to be dangerous melanoma though, so know the signs and keep an eye on your skin!

Just a friendly reminder from your favorite Texan to have fun in the sun but be careful with your skin!

That having been said, who rubs the sunscreen on your back? Your hubby? Significant other? Your children? Or the pool boy? hehe

My younger sister, The bug, used to spend time going around and opening the bug traps around the pool to discover what bugs were inside. Do you know anyone else who does this?

When I was seven or so, I was in the pool, bopping around on the side and managed to bang my chin so hard into the side of the pool that I need stiches. lovely, huh? Have you or your kids done this?

My husband learned to swim from some guy who just basically threw kids in the pool and told them to swim. It was do or die, apparently. I hope no one else had this instructor.

Enjoy swimming season! Protect your skin and save those pennies (for your kids to find on the bottom of the pool). :o)

Please leave a comment and share your swimming pool stories!

And, I heard about a giveaway at Angie's website and on The Mama Bird Diaries blog there is a Sex and The City giveaway.

Clifford Freeman - 1975

Clifford, (see "Our Mountain Mentors) giving Andrew (my nephew) and Ethan (my older boy) a ride on Nell. Notice the smiles of delight on all three faces!

Clifford and Louise and cow dog Patsy, heading up the hill to the salt rock. Clifford, with two hip replacements that were wearing out, rides.

I found this drawing in a magazine back then. It's Clifford to the life.

LE GATEAU EN ROSE

Lemon Rose Cake with Rum Glaze.

Couple of weekends ago, we were out visiting Richard (of Shadowscope fame) and Holder, his bride of (nearly) 20 years...the occasion was a Wedding Anniversary Barbecue celebrating the impending Double Decade Event.

By way of a Culinary Gift, I prepared the Lemon Rose Cake pictured above. It’s a nice enough looking cake, and it has a lemony-rummy taste that is both elegant and just plain eat-the-whole-fucking-thing delicious at the same time.

Holder was very taken with the cake and requested the recipe...so I’ve taken the liberty of presenting it here, courtesy of William-Sonoma. And the timing is perfect, because tomorrow is their actual 20th anniversary. Stop by and wish ’em a good one!

Lemon Rose Cake with Rum Glaze

For the cake:

2½ cups (315 g) cake flour
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
1 cup (250 ml) milk
1 Tbsp dark rum
¾ tsp lemon oil (food-grade lemon oil, not the stuff you wax your dining room table with, ya lummox)
16 Tbsp (2 sticks/250 g) unsalted butter
1½ cups (375 g) granulated sugar
3 eggs plus 1 egg yolk

For the glaze:

6 Tbsp (90 ml) water
¼ cup (60 g) granulated sugar
3 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 to 2 Tbsp dark rum

Confectioners’ sugar for dusting (optional)


First off, I’ll tell you that I use Swan’s Down cake flour. Any decent brand of cake flour will do, but don’t try to get by with all-purpose flour if that’s all you have in the pantry. All-purpose flour will not give this cake the meltingly tender crumb it’s supposed to have.

Have all the ingredients at room temperature.

Position a rack in the lower third of an oven and preheat to 350°F (180°C).

Grease and flour a rose cake pan.

First, that means get a rose cake pan. You don’t have one? No prob...a Bundt pan will probably work almost as well and be a lot easier to clean, but the cake just won’t look like a rose. It’ll look like a Bundt...whatever the hell that is. If you want a rose cake pan, you can find one at Williams-Sonoma. Getting the bank loan to pay for it is your problem.

Don’t be a wise-ass and try using Pam or any other cooking oil spray; you’ll regret it. [Eric and Fiona can attest to the Dire Results of using cooking oil spray to grease a rose cake pan.] Best way to grease this kind of pan is to brush it with melted butter, then chill it in the fridge until the butter sets, then dust with flour, making sure the flour coats the entire pan. Tap out the excess flour over the sink.

To make the cake: Over a sheet of waxed paper, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt; set aside. In a small bowl, combine the milk, rum and lemon oil and stir to combine; set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the flat beater, beat the butter on medium speed until creamy and smooth, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the granulated sugar and beat until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes, stopping the mixer occasionally to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the eggs and egg yolk one at a time, beating well after each addition. Reduce the speed to low and add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the milk mixture and beginning and ending with the flour. Beat each addition just until incorporated, stopping the mixer occasionally to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and, using a rubber spatula, spread the batter so the sides are slightly higher than the center.

Bake until the center of the cake springs back when lightly touched and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 50 minutes. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let the cake cool upright in the pan for about 15 minutes, then tap the pan gently on a work surface to loosen the cake. Set the rack over a sheet of waxed paper, invert the pan onto the rack and lift off the pan.

To make the glaze: In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine the water, granulated sugar, butter and rum. Cook, stirring, until the butter has melted and most of the sugar has dissolved, about 2 minutes. Brush the warm cake with the glaze. Let the cake cool completely before serving. Dust liberally with confectioners’ sugar and serve. Serves 10 to 12...unless you’re really hungry, in which case: Serves 2.

Happy eating!

[Adapted from a recipe by Flo Braker, Author, Sweet Miniatures (Chronicle Books, 2000).]