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I wanted to somehow sand cake
I wanted not to me somehow sand cake and I decided not to ask his wife about it, and do it himself. I learned the recipe and his wife went to work. But unlike us men from the women that we are creative people and easy to follow any recipe is not conducive to our inspiration. Not casual because in the same restaurant the chef, not the chef cooks; inspiration in this process is necessary. So I immediately decided to deviate from the routine and add honey shortbread dough. With honey fact should be tasty, the only question is, how much to put it?
At first I kneaded it around with a glass, but then I thought that we should not be penny wise and vbuhali even with a half cup. Hmm ... Another brilliant culinary innovation has become a condensed milk; because it must boil at high temperature and give the cake a unique caramel taste! Again, how much? Yes, as much and honey, but you see what good honey would kill the taste of condensed milk and eating cake will not know whether it is there at all. Since the dough followed by two cans of condensed milk.
I had to add a little more flour to achieve the desired density. The dough turned out very dense and heavy, it has stuck to his hands and looked like cool kneaded epoxy putty; an inner voice told me that I was on the right track. Then the dough should freeze slightly so that it can grate. After freezing similarities with putty reinforced in the sense that the putty so to speak, "clutched": I'm a little tired, while rubbing the bottom layer; I rested until coated with jam and in the end zadolbalsya, rubbing the top layer. Pushing the pan in the oven, I said to myself that the cake turned preizryadno heavy (in weight ratio), and was glad to this fact: After his time on longer enough; and that in fact is usually as: Today, there are cake and eat tomorrow. Oh, I would know that this cake is enough for so long ... In short, when the cake is baked, I gave it to cool, and then gave the nod to his family; supposedly eat. From vzrezki cake I refused, saying the matter of the master - to do, and everyone can cut. With cutting off came the catch: Pie still bought some quality epoxy putty and cured so that our duty kitchen knife he had not taken. I had to, in order not to lose face, to get down to business and, armed with a weighty hatchet, I'm pretty easy to cut off a piece each.
The pieces of the brick with bad sound bryakalis on the plates, causing households questioning looks. The cake was very tasty, if not the problem with his eating; I'm not used to the gum itself stripped of its monolithic firmament. The wife and son after several attempts to cripple refused and tried to find out just how I managed to do that. Only one three-year dochka never parted with their slice and patiently sucked his thumb and region. As a result, basic pie eaters and we were left with a daughter. Every day more and more turned to stone cake, regardless of what was in the plastic bag; apparent hardness was not caused by lack of moisture, and chemical composition.
A friend of my wife who frequent our house very much praised my pie, though did not eat it (to their credit it must be noted that they were trying to be honest). I offer guests an alternate and in my opinion quite an acceptable method of implementation: absorbable small kusoskami like candy, which I undertook with his hand chop. Some agreed, and then sat with protruding cheek, waiting for the cake resolve. And then it was time to bid farewell to the remains of the cake; I was burying them in the bin, where he collapsed, uttering farewell sound of falling iron. The memory of it remained in the family for a long time.
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At first I kneaded it around with a glass, but then I thought that we should not be penny wise and vbuhali even with a half cup. Hmm ... Another brilliant culinary innovation has become a condensed milk; because it must boil at high temperature and give the cake a unique caramel taste! Again, how much? Yes, as much and honey, but you see what good honey would kill the taste of condensed milk and eating cake will not know whether it is there at all. Since the dough followed by two cans of condensed milk.
I had to add a little more flour to achieve the desired density. The dough turned out very dense and heavy, it has stuck to his hands and looked like cool kneaded epoxy putty; an inner voice told me that I was on the right track. Then the dough should freeze slightly so that it can grate. After freezing similarities with putty reinforced in the sense that the putty so to speak, "clutched": I'm a little tired, while rubbing the bottom layer; I rested until coated with jam and in the end zadolbalsya, rubbing the top layer. Pushing the pan in the oven, I said to myself that the cake turned preizryadno heavy (in weight ratio), and was glad to this fact: After his time on longer enough; and that in fact is usually as: Today, there are cake and eat tomorrow. Oh, I would know that this cake is enough for so long ... In short, when the cake is baked, I gave it to cool, and then gave the nod to his family; supposedly eat. From vzrezki cake I refused, saying the matter of the master - to do, and everyone can cut. With cutting off came the catch: Pie still bought some quality epoxy putty and cured so that our duty kitchen knife he had not taken. I had to, in order not to lose face, to get down to business and, armed with a weighty hatchet, I'm pretty easy to cut off a piece each.
The pieces of the brick with bad sound bryakalis on the plates, causing households questioning looks. The cake was very tasty, if not the problem with his eating; I'm not used to the gum itself stripped of its monolithic firmament. The wife and son after several attempts to cripple refused and tried to find out just how I managed to do that. Only one three-year dochka never parted with their slice and patiently sucked his thumb and region. As a result, basic pie eaters and we were left with a daughter. Every day more and more turned to stone cake, regardless of what was in the plastic bag; apparent hardness was not caused by lack of moisture, and chemical composition.
A friend of my wife who frequent our house very much praised my pie, though did not eat it (to their credit it must be noted that they were trying to be honest). I offer guests an alternate and in my opinion quite an acceptable method of implementation: absorbable small kusoskami like candy, which I undertook with his hand chop. Some agreed, and then sat with protruding cheek, waiting for the cake resolve. And then it was time to bid farewell to the remains of the cake; I was burying them in the bin, where he collapsed, uttering farewell sound of falling iron. The memory of it remained in the family for a long time.
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