{"id":1667,"date":"2006-05-02T03:48:00","date_gmt":"2006-05-02T03:48:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2006\/05\/02\/celebrity-cake"},"modified":"2015-09-24T03:54:07","modified_gmt":"2015-09-24T03:54:07","slug":"celebrity-cake","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2006\/05\/celebrity-cake\/","title":{"rendered":"Celebrity cake"},"content":{"rendered":"
Try as I might to steel myself, I am a total sucker for celebrity gossip. It started early, with those candylike copies of People<\/em><\/strong> that my mother and I would sneak home from the grocery store. It was only every now and then, but it must have been too much, because today I am nearly helpless before each new display of Us Weekly<\/em>. I\u2019m the one holding up your checkout line while I eyeball Angelina\u2019s belly or the slow train wreck that is Britney Spears. When I have an appointment with the doctor or dentist, I almost always go early, just so I can have a few moments alone with the office copy of Star<\/em>. I once found an abandoned Life&Style Weekly<\/em> in an airplane seat and nearly snarled at my neighbor, teeth bared, as I jumped to snatch it. The sex, the scandal, the honor betrayed: it\u2019s sick, I know, but sometimes, I tell myself that it\u2019s just like Shakespeare, without the messy encumbrance of rhyme and meter.<\/p>\n Plus, there\u2019s the fact that celebrities eat, and that paparazzi photos sometimes include a stray coffee cup, cookie, hot dog, or half-eaten salad. This fact alone vindicates my voyeurism: it\u2019s research, really, into another form of food journalism. So-and-So was seen at <\/em>Sarabeth\u2019s<\/em><\/a>, where, according to the manager, she \u201creally put away the strawberry-rhubarb jam.\u201d<\/em> Or, So-and-So keeps macrobiotic, but is rumored to have a weakness for <\/em>Mike and Ike<\/em><\/a> and Diet Coke. At So-and-So\u2019s birthday party, waiters clad only in bronze paint passed Moroccan-spiced lamb lollypops with harissa foam, and revelers wore bracelets strung with couscous. <\/em>It\u2019s the mundane, but set in Malibu or Manhattan, and with more garden parties<\/strong>. Seattle doesn\u2019t often generate that caliber of celebrity news, so a girl\u2019s got to get it elsewhere, like Us Weekly<\/em>.<\/p>\n Unless, of course, the president of China should happen to stop in for a visit at Microsoft, and our own homegrown, sweater-clad, sort-of celebrity, Mr. Bill Gates<\/a>, decides to invite him over for an evening of hobnobbing and cake<\/a>, creating quite a stir on the local scene. Politics and software preferences aside, people love a good, flashy motorcade, especially when it leads to a dinner party<\/strong>. Even The Seattle Times<\/em> got in on the gossip\u2014and got a recipe<\/a> too.<\/p>\n<\/a>
It isn\u2019t often that celebrity news\u2014local or otherwise\u2014inspires me into the kitchen, but when I read that dessert at the Gates residence was a brown butter \u2013 almond cake topped with rhubarb<\/strong>, I printed the recipe, fired up the oven, and reached for the mixing bowl. Soon, there was a pan of butter on the stove, burbling its way to brown, and not too long after came nearly a dozen little cakes, squatting atop the counter. Dotted with shards of rhubarb and sporting a homey, tousled top, they smelled unmistakably nutty and not too sweet<\/strong>\u2014earthy and toasty, with a faint caramel edge. Inside, the crumb was classic torte: tight, tender, and very, very rich. Painted with a thin, shiny glaze of apricot jam, they would be worthy of any So-and-So, or even a Page Six<\/em><\/a> mention\u2014if, of course, Seattle had that sort of thing.<\/p>\n