One of the reasons I seem to have fallen off the face of the food blogging planet is that I used to have a tiny assistant in the kitchen. Lucy would “help” me with everything from stirring flour and salt to icing cakes to tasting sauces. When her younger sister Charlie was tiny we still went on our merry way in the kitchen, Charlie napping in her swing or basking on a stack of blankets on the dining room floor. But now that my baby is not quite a baby anymore and demands my attention at all times (that fun but taxing “up!” “down!” “water!” “grapes!” “I crapped my pants!” “The car seat? What are you, insane?!” stage), my time in the kitchen (with or without Lucy) has grown slim.
But when some dear friends asked us over for fish tacos and margaritas for Cinco de Mayo, I knew we had to bring tres leches cake. I fall back to Pioneer Woman’s recipe for this one, because it’s easy and delicious and I knew that Lucy and I would have a blast making it together.
{Lucy grew tired of poking the cake with a fork and decided a chopstick would be more efficient.}
We carved out some time to bake, just the two of us. I hadn’t gotten down and dirty in the kitchen (read: flour flying into the corners of the ceiling, egg whites dripping down the countertops) with her for a long while, and as we went through the steps of making the cake I came to realize that my oldest baby was no longer a baby anymore, either. Instead of wanting to simply make messes for messes sake, she began asking questions about the process.
“What is that [baking powder] for, Mom?”
“Why do you spray that [cooking spray] into there [a 9x13 pan]?”
“What’s going to happen when we mix them together?”
“Why does it go in the oven?”
A few of her questions were the simple “3 year old why’s” but many were so pointed that I began explaining what each ingredient was for, why we used it, and how it would make the cake taste. She was fascinated. I’d like to think that she’s so interested because I’ve been letting her cook with me since she could hold a spoon, but more than likely it’s simply because she’s a curious girl. Whatever the reason, I was in delighted awe as we mixed, poured and spread.
We baked the cake in the evening, and I told her that the next morning her job would be to pour the milk mixture over the top, help me whip the cream, stem the strawberries (for topping), and frost the cake. As I was putting her to bed she said, “Mom, I can’t wait for my special cake job tomorrow!” And then I melted into a puddle of tears onto the floor and cried because my baby girl is certainly not a baby, at all. When the old granny in the grocery store quips “they just grow up so fast!” she doesn’t say that their first word will be dada and seemingly the next will be “why do the egg whites get all puffy when you turn the mixer on really fast?”
{Pink on pink on pink. A mind and style of her own.}
But back to the cake. If you’ve never tried tres leches, come on over to the dark side. Essentially you bake a very dry, airy cake and soak it with a mixture of sweet milks. Each slice oozes with caramel-flavored cream. I make this several times a year for different occasions and everyone seems to think that it’s sent from a magical dessert deity. I’ve tried different versions, but I think Ree’s is the best. Plus, if you make it with your kids you will create 1) a giant, fun, magical mess, 2) a giant, fun, magical cake, and 3) memories in the kitchen with your wee ones. Just don’t collapse into the closet into a pile of tears like I did when you realize they’re old enough to crack an egg by themselves.
You can find my step-by-step instructions in an older post on tres leches here, or Ree’s prettier photos and recipe here.
