Yesterday, I saw a recipe for rum almond cake and decided to try it. The recipe is very simple – butter, eggs, ground almonds, flour, and liquor.

After baking, you sprinkle more liquor over the cake.

Then, you make an icing with more liquor, then allow the whole thing to chill and soak overnight.

I am glad I decided to try it before giving a piece to Irish Woman for breakfast. It tasted wonderful, but if sold commercially, it would require a special license from the state and a declaration of its proof and distillation location. Going to work with cake on your breath might be a career limiting factor in this circumstance.

Basically, it’s a cocktail you drink with a fork.

Guess this one goes in the after-dinner treat category.

———————————

Speaking of liquor, my neighbor and I did a tasting of two Texas bourbons this weekend.

His offering was Garrison Brothers Boot Flask whiskey. This was a rather spicy tipple that smacks you upside the head, grabs you by the shoulders, and pushes you toward the mechanical bull of life.

I brought over a bottle of Rebecca Creek Small Batch I brought home from my trip to Bugscuffle last winter. In contrast to our other choice, this was a gentle kiss on the neck, followed by cuddling and talks about a second honeymoon.

Irish Woman, being the proud daughter of the Bluegrass she is, declared that there is no such thing as Texas bourbon. She then proceeded to enjoy her Texas bourbon and coke.

———————————

Irish Woman and The Young Prince returned from their Florida trip unscathed. Irish Woman seems to have enjoyed her week on the beach, especially the kayaking to islands overrun by iguanas. Boo seems to have gotten a lot of out of his time snorkeling and crewing a sailing ship.

Picking them up from the Cincinnati airport on the night of July 4th was interesting. They landed right at dusk, so our drive home was punctuated by multiple large fireworks displays. The most interesting was the rather glorious explosions happening over the world’s most patriotic landfill just south of the airport. I’m sure there’s some symbolism there, but I can’t seem to articulate it before coffee.