Bake Lore has been hijacked!

Wait?! What is this?! I'm not Amy! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Hello everyone! Many of you don’t know me except by reputation. I am the infamous Lennon Lore, husband to the Baker Lore herself, and sometimes cake delivery boy. Let me start off with saying that posting on blogs about cake and bread and sugar and pastry are not normally within my purview.  I have a gun blog (that  I never post on) and I’m much more apt  to speak about firearms at length than anything else. That and Star Wars, even though my sad devotion to that ancient religion hasn’t conjured up the stolen data tapes, OR given me clairvoyance enough to find the hidden rebel base. But I digest…

At the current time of writing this, my wife doesn’t know I’m doing it. She didn’t ask me to post this and she may in fact turn it down, too embarrassed to post it on her blog. We shall see.

You see friends; I’ve been there since the beginning. I was there when Bake Lore was nothing but the unnamed, undefined twinkle in the eye of a woman who was living in a matchbox house in Kentucky who had the Food Network playing incessantly while her husband trained to kill terrorists a few miles away at Fort Campbell all day. I like to imagine the beginning of Bake Lore was a particular incident about four years ago when I witnessed my Galway Girl gleefully making a sculpture out of butter cream icing, cheezits, pretzels, and whatever else she could get her hands on one night when we were staying with her parents for the weekend. Really all her cake making is just this; a deep rooted desire to play with her food. Only now she does it like a boss, making pretty/delicious things, thankfully the cheezit quantity in her cakes have taken a sharp decline in the last few years.

Now I am her husband so of course I’m biased, but that doesn’t mean this stuff ain’t good. I get a firsthand look at what exactly goes into these creations, ingredients and labor-wise, and let me tell you, it can be pretty intense. These cakes take HOURS of labor to make just one. There have been a couple of weeks where a night or two I am forced to make like my hunter gatherer ancestors did and order a pizza because the kitchen is full of CAKE and there is simply no room to cook anything else. As for ingredients, Amy is insistent, especially for her bread, to only use the very finest, ALL natural ingredients. She soaks her wheat before she uses it, because a good hot bath is the best stress reliever there is, and trust me, you don’t want stressed wheat in your bread. Stressed wheat makes bread that doesn’t think clearly, gets poor sleep and makes decisions poorly. It also releases nutrients that are super healthy that you’re not going to find in your Bunny Bread. There’s also something about phytates that , honestly, I’ve had explained to me like four times and even read an article about it, but I still can’t remember what they are and what they do, I just know they are bad for you. They mess up your digestion, or something. And make you impotent. And they are racist. And they killed Jimmy Hoffa.

Really the thing is, Amy has a whole philosophy about her food, and how it should be prepared, and like all philosophies deeply held, this permeates down to the way she prepares all her food. I may jest with her about it sometimes (Many a ribald of Larry Groce’s “Junkfood Junkie” is heard in my house), but in reality, I admire and support my wife 100%. Sure, there are things I would have done different, she shot down my idea to name the store The DGC Bakery (that’s Damn Good Cakes), although, it would have been awesome (I find that girls are rarely concerned with awesomeness as much as they should be).

So really, I’m very proud of my wife and all that she has done with this passion of hers. It’s really impressive to see the whole thing, where it’s came from to what it is now and where it’s headed. I’m very proud of you, honey.