By no stretch of the imagination could I claim to know every last cake decorator on earth, or even in the US, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that they all have one thing in common: They are absolutely crazy.  Especially those who specialize in wedding cakes, let me tell you.  That job requires a heightened level of madness, a degree of which I still have yet to fully comprehend.  I know this for sure because for however brief, I joined their ranks.

Still jet-lagged and bleary-eyed the day after returning from Paris, it was game time, and a trial cake had to be baked.  Never before had I made a wedding cake, nor even a round cake bigger than 10 inches in diameter, and somehow it seemed sensible to have only one test cake.  The madness had already begun to descend, you see.  Lacking the time to make the whole assembly, it was really just for reassurance that the recipe would still work when baked in a 3-inch thick layer… But of course, lest I get too comfortable with the concept, even the smallest top tier ballooned like a soufflé and promptly fell like a bombed out mine field.  Meanwhile, experiments with creating the perfect low-sugar frosting weren’t going any better, the whisk of my mixer dejectedly pushing around a thin, soupy icing that refused to gain any volume.  What a fun situation to return home to.

But there wasn’t enough time in the day to fix all of the kinks (ie, everything), and exhaustion began to set in, so in favor of not ending up face-first in a vat of cake batter, all I could do was high-tail it off to bed.  Never mind that the whole cake would need to be baked and crumb-coated tomorrow.

Simple enough, right?  Take all day and bake a cake.  But it’s no little birthday cake, no cute little two-layer affair.  These monstrous rounds require somewhere around 70 total cups of batter, and the largest layers took nearly two hours to bake, each.  Then, they must cool, and have you ever sat around waiting for a 14-inch round, 3-inch tall cake to cool?  Absolute torture.  At the very least, nothing had exploded in the oven, and I was making some progress.  Did I mention that this cake would be due at noon the next day?  Not that I was stressing over the deadline at all, no way.

Some how, some way, at the end of the longest day of my life, there actually was a wedding cake.  A feat in itself, but it was even on time and exactly as ordered!

While I’m normally opposed to using non-edible items on a cake, I could hardly argue with the bride’s request for fresh flower decorations. Besides, it saved me the heartache of trying to pipe some crude squiggles that might have only looked like flowers if you closed your eyes. At that point, I was just happy to throw some roses and such on it and be done with the thing.

After that maddening experience, it’s clear that only a very unbalanced, somewhat delusional, and absolutely obsessive person would choose to make wedding cakes for a living. And of course, I say that with great admiration.

If for only a moment, there comes a fleeting stretch of time where seasonal fruits intersect on their ways in and out of season. Both perfectly ripe, but some barely clinging to their final days at their prime, while others finally just hitting their stride. In perfect harmony for however briefly, it’s this window of opportunity where some of the most unique and unusual pairings can be made. It might sound crazy on paper, or on screen for that matter, but I was elated to finally try marrying tomatoes and strawberries into one inclusive dessert.

Composed of thinly sliced grape tomatoes and petite strawberries arranged in overlapping layers on top of an almond crust, these tartlettes couldn’t be any easier to make, but they seem to make a big impression on unsuspecting eaters. Lightly brushed with vanilla-infused agave, and finally topped with a sprinkle of grated lemon zest and fresh thyme, it’s one of those special treats that can only be enjoyed once or twice a year at most. Highlighting perfect produce, they hardly need anything to dress them up, and thus it’s hard to consider adorning the tartlettes any further.

Despite throwing in a couple of plain old strawberries tartlettes for good measure, just in case my taste testers wouldn’t go for this unusual idea, the tomato-layered sweets were still the first to disappear.

I’m afraid it may be too late for some of you, depending on what’s going on in your local markets, but if you happen to have the fortune of a late strawberry crop coming in, don’t let this one chance pass you by!

Nostalgia seems to drive many cooks to recreate “classic” recipes, testing them against hazy memories in hopes of discovering something just as good, or better yet, even more delicious than the original. Entering into this month’s Daring Baker challenge, I had the sense that many of my fellow bakers had this exact mission in mind, whether the resulting comparisons would be intentional or not. However, having long since forgotten my last experience of eating a Milano cookie perhaps a decade ago, and never having shared the company of a Mallomar at all, it was a whole new arena for me, and I was very excited about that. Without wistful recollections to weigh me down and close my mind off to new ideas, the potential for innovation that each cookie held was more tempting than the promise of a sweet treat alone. Despite rushing off to Paris and a number of deadline crunches, there was just no way I would miss this challenge.

The July Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Nicole at Sweet Tooth. She chose Chocolate Covered Marshmallow Cookies and Milan Cookies from pastry chef Gale Gand of the Food Network.

Where, oh where to start? Hemming and hawing over various shapes, presentations, and tastes, I finally settled on a simpler approach and focused on adding fresh flavors to these otherwise uninspiring chocolate-and-vanilla childhood staples. With the terrible heat and unquenchable thirst that it brings, the refreshing zest of a few summery drinks sounded like the perfect place to start.

And it wasn’t just a liquid fix I was craving! Fresh lime zest and mint straight from the garden made their way into the raw batter, giving the crisp cookies a delightful zip. Infusing the ganache of my Milano look-alikes with a healthy splash of rum was what really pulled the treat together though, creating irresistible mojito milans.

The real challenge, as one may have guessed, was creating a vegan marshmallow for the mallomars. Luckily, I had been experimenting recently on just that fluffy confection in question, so I had a pretty good grasp of it from the start. Although my mallow was a bit too soft in the end, all was not lost- into the hemisphere mold it went, and a long stay in the freezer fixed the situation.

This time around, my base cookies were imbued with the zest of an orange, and all of the plain water in my mallows was replaced with champagne. A quick dip in some dark chocolate, and voila- Mimosa mallomars! Both a refined, mature treat that’s still fun and a bit whimsical at the same time.

Time was not on my side, and I didn’t manage to squeeze in the complicated plating originally planned for these lovely mallomars, but at least this was something. Dipping one of the extra cookies half way in chocolate, and then topping that with a big scoop of chocolate ice cream, it was a pleasing, if not impressive, dessert all together. Really, it didn’t need a single thing to make it any more special though, as the mallow is an all-day recipe, making it a rare treat indeed.

Alone and unadorned though, both treats were even better when served chilled!