Last night when I announced that I was going to make a pear-gingerbread-upside down cake Robert was unusually enthusiastic. Unusually because, you see, my husband does not like gingerbread (or potatoes. Have I mentioned this? I mean, seriously, who doesn't like potatoes??). Being the optimistic girl that I am, however, I assumed that he'd finally come to his senses about gingerbread, at least, and cheerfully set about making the cake.
Only after I'd cooked and served this rather large pastry did he notice it was, you know, gingerbread. His lukewarmness returned. This morning he told he he'd eaten some of it for breakfast (we had next to no food in the house), and that it had been disappointing. Or unsatisfying. I can't remember which, because frankly when he starts spouting nonsense about kick-ass delicious food I kind of get this fuzzy noise interference thing going. No doubt it's my brain saying something like "lalala I can't hear you!!"
The upshot of all this is that I now have a 10" gingerbread-pear-upside down cake to eat on my own. Did I mention that it has a stick and a half of butter in it? Yeah. Good thing I've got me some good genes, cause it really is a very delicious cake (and ugly. Very ugly. I totally screwed up the upside-downing processes, so no pictures for you!).