The Making of Artoo, Day One

The boy's sixth birthday is Thursday. I promised I'd make him an R2-D2 cake just like the one I made the husband for his 25th birthday some years ago. Believe it or not, I haven't used the pan since that birthday, but perhaps that's for the best. I'm not sure how well a Wilton pan from 1980 will hold up to repeated use.

But the year isn't 1980 nor 2000. It's 2009, and there's a little boy with ridiculously high expectations for a birthday cake to be pleased.

Step 1: Screw Up the Cake
I had initially planned not to futz with the Betty Crapper party rainbow chip cake mix I'd bought. I had real, whole eggs. I had oil.

But I couldn't do it. As I prepared to make the cake this morning, I hunted down oil alternatives after the Web site for cholesterol-free cake mix options from Betty Crapper was, well, crap. While I have applesauce, I didn't want to use it because I know well how dense cake turns out when applesauce replaces the oil. So I confirmed that I could use fat-free plain yogurt, and I even took the time to drain the one-third cup of yogurt before adding it to the batter.

And I probably shouldn't have. Once I mixed it with the equivalent of three whole eggs in carton-pourable egg whites and the powder from the box, I had batter that was the consistency of nearly frozen toothpaste. Yeah, Gentle Reader, it was that thick. Not a good thing.

So what does The Faudie do when confronted with ultra-thick cake batter? She adds a little pourable egg white. Then a little more. Then a little more again. Then she surrenders and hopes to hell the frosting-consistency batter will actually rise.

And it did. The cake out of the oven and out of the pan looked not too bad. Sure, it had a few divots on the underside, a few pock marks on the topside, but at least the damn thing rose. Slap some thinned out royal icing as a crumb coat to select parts, and you've got yourself what looks like might become a respectable R2-D2 cake.

But as the day wore on, I doubted the work I'd done this morning. After burning up 30 minutes or more along with two stick of light butter, nearly two teaspoons of clear vanilla extract from Wilton (not cheap, Gentle Reader) and damn near a bag and a half of powdered sugar to make frosting, I didn't want to blow the project because of a nasty cake. I made a tough decision: Since I had to stop at HEB to pick up a 'script so I can keep breathing, I would also pick up a new mix and make a second cake, this time following Ms. Crapper's directions to a T.

Step 2: Give the Birthday Boy a Thrill and Let Him Hack Up a Not-Birthday Cake
When I picked up the boy from school, I told him I had some bad news and some good news.

"Uh-oh," said the boy ominously in reply.

"Well, the good news is that Artoo came out of the pan just fine."

"Uh-huh."

"The bad news is that I'm going to have to make a new cake because I'm concerned the cake's going to taste nasty. Remember how thick the batter was this morning?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I'm going to do it over again. After all, other people besides you, me and Daddy have to eat this cake."

"Uh-huh."

(He's a great conversationalist, that boy of mine.)

"But another piece of good news is that you get a not-birthday cake to eat for a snack."

"Yes!" the boy proclaimed, shooting a fist into the air.

"And I'll even let you cut it yourself."

That's when the boy shot me an evil-looking grin. Man, I couldn't have been prouder of him.

By the way, R2 v1.0 was the consistency of a cake donut. That's been sitting on a tray in the display case at the grocery store for a few days. That could double as a sponge or a paperweight.

But the flavor wasn't too bad.

R2 v2.0, however, looks like a real cake. So what if it has about a dozen grams of fat per serving!

It's sort of appropriate that I had to make a second cake. When I made the first R2-D2 birthday cake back in 2000, I made a trial cake to see exactly how much of the contouring of the pan would translate into actual detail on the cake and to test out decorating techniques since the pan did not come with the original decorating guide. Hey, what can you expect for a Wilton pan from 1980 that I acquired on eBay?

Step 3: Try to Please Mr. Perfection When Whipping Up Colored Frosting
I warned the boy before we started adding food color to buttercream frosting that I would not be able to make frosting that exactly matched the paint used on the Artoo action figure case/playset I would be using again as a guide for decorating. I warned him again about the limitations of food color and buttercream as I blended in another eighth of a teaspoon (or thereabouts) of McCormick's blue dye to try to make the frosting more blue than sea foam green.

Do I have to tell you, Gentle Reader, how disappointed the boy was when the finished blue frosting was a far cry from the royal blue on the Artoo plastic case?

Yeah, I love the boy so much some days. Really makes it worth all the time and effort I put into these little projects for him. Yeah, really makes me want to be on my feet for six or so hours tomorrow decorating R2 v2.0 in spite of my incredibly painful right Achilles tendon that's prevented me from running today and made me cut short my run Monday (and has me really pissed off that I can't run for a while). Yeah, but I'm going to do it anyway because at this point, decorating this damn cake is all about proving a point to myself: that I still can do some of the things I did back when I was younger and a little less crazed.

Yeah, that's exactly how to go about these things, isn't it?