{February Food Challenge} Trifle is NOT a trifle

In Britain, we celebrate the Super Bowl on the Monday following it.  That is if we aren't committed enough to stay up through the 5 hour time difference to see two teams we have no connection with play each other in the biggest game of their lives (at least for this year).  Who am I kidding? Taylor and I would still probably wait till the next day to watch it at a normal hour even if it was the Texans v. the Cowboys.  So yeah, being the football fans that we are, the Inces are 2 for 2 in Monday Super Bowl watching.  I am proud to say that I did stay off of Facebook all of Sunday and Monday to make sure that I didn't find out ahead of time who won.  The sad thing is,  we left before the game was over in order to put to Seth to bed on time, and it was days later that I even remembered to ask Taylor who won.  But this post isn't about football, it's about food!

What I was really excited about with this whole Super Bowl business was having a fun excuse to get together with our American friends and share good food and fellowship. Though I am not usually tempted by sugar - I have more of a "savory tooth" (wow that sounds like some sort of prehistoric animal, scary) than a sweet tooth - this pregnancy has changed all of that.  You see, I'd typically forego dessert to have room for a second helping of the main course.  Not anymore.  I had a feeling this baby was a girl with my newfound affinity for all things sweet.

I had seen a recipe for Berry Trifle on my friend, Elizabeth's blog, and it immediately grabbed my attention because my grandmother makes a killer trifle, and I already had half a pound cake leftover from dinner with friends a few nights before that I knew needed to be taken care of quickly before I took care of it

all.by.myself.

I am all about not only cooking/baking to satisfy my cravings, but also practical cooking.  Half the dessert was already made.  No brainer - trifle it is!

I made my grocery order complete with the 2 pounds (as in weight not currency) of berries it called for though it considerably increased how many pounds (currency not weight) I spent on the order.  I think this may have contributed to the predicament I have put us in this month.  Since berries are a luxury item in the Ince household, I gently reminded Taylor not to eat them in his oatmeal as they were all needed for my Super Bowl dessert.

I made the trifle with a few changes:

Berry Trifle

omitted the liqueur
used almond pound cake instead
didn't refrigerate 4-24 hours before serving because that would have taken too much forethought.  One hour in the fridge turned out to be enough though I am sure it's better if you can leave it in longer.

Almond Pound Cake (you will only need half of it for the trifle):

1 1/2 c butter (3 American sticks)
3 c flour
3 c sugar
6 eggs
t almond extract

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.  Put all ingredients in Kitchen Aid mixer using paddle attachment for about 4-5 minutes (or if you're in Britain lamenting that you had to leave your Kitchen Aid in a box in your parents-in-law's attic, use your pathetic one speed, 4 pounds sterling Sainsbury's Basic mixer until it all looks mixed or your arm feels like it's going to fall off).  Pour in greased bundt cake pan.  Bake for 1 hour.





Patting myself on the back, I even cut out the pieces of "sad" cake for Taylor to eat later.  Almond pound cake is one of his favorite desserts, and I was so proud of myself for how thoughtful it was of me to set it aside for him. Hmph - I am sensing a theme in my life lately.

We took the trifle to the party, and it was a hit.  Our gracious host even tried to talk Taylor into leaving the rest of it at their flat, and they'd return the bowl later in the week.  Quickly I found some tupperware and left a heaping portion for them because I wasn't about to leave all of it.  This baby needs trifle!

We had enough leftover to offer some to our babysitter the next night (Tuesday).  I only slightly panicked when she texted me:

"Just gonna say don't invite people back for dessert because there may or may not be any..."

I immediately had inner-dialogue going on about how I expressly left it for her, she deserved all of it because she babysits for free, I can make some more...I bet there is at least some left.

I was able to contain myself and wait until she was gone to check and see if there was any left.  There was - victory!  I noted there was a little more that one serving and that Taylor and I could share it after dinner one night that we didn't have guests over.

By Thursday, the trifle was calling to me.  I really wanted to eat my portion after lunch but decided that I should practice self-control and wait to share it with Taylor after dinner.  I had the passing thought, what if he gets to it before then and eats it all by himself?  I quickly dismissed it as silly and neurotic.  He wouldn't do that to his pregnant wife.  I had saved it all of this time for the both of us, surely he wouldn't just eat it all himself.

Thursdays Taylor works from home.  After our team meeting for our job, we took turns watching Seth so that we could each work a bit.  When I handed Seth off to Taylor so that I could start dinner, I noticed one of my pet peeves.  A sink full of dirty dishes before I started cooking.  As I approached the sink, imagine my horror (highlighted by my pregnancy) to see the empty trifle bowl sitting there, full of water swirling with whipped cream/folded together with mascarpone and lemon zest.  I'll leave my reaction up to your imagination.  And no, there wasn't any profanity involved just righteous indignation.  Lord, help me.

Taylor was dumbfounded.

"You don't even like dessert, Robin."

"I am pregnant Taylor.  I like everything!"

Y'all.  I cannot tell  you how sad I was at the prospect of missing out on this trifle and how mad I was at Taylor.  How could he do this to me?  I thought pitifully to myself.  While I am thinking this, our buzzer rings.  Taylor, seeing a chance for escape, grabs Seth and heads downstairs to open the door because "our unlock the door button didn't work."  Our neightbor, Liz, had stopped by and was holding out the largest, gooiest piece of chocolate cake leftover from her birthday the night before and was wondering if we might want it.

"Um, yes please!"Taylor said as he whisked the cake away and ran back up the stairs triumphantly handing me the peace piece offering sent straight from God through his precious messenger, Liz.  I bet she had no idea how much a piece of chocolate cake would bless a prenant woman and her marriage that day.

After dinner, we shared it.  And y'all.  I'm pretty sure I haven't ever been more excited about a piece of chocolate cake in my life.

For those of you who don't think the Lord cares about the little things, rest assured that the proof is in the pudding.