Someone made me a cake.

Edward made me a cake today. The first time a man has ever made me something baked. My Nanna said: ‘what a brave man!’. Most people refuse to cook pastry or cakes for me – it’s the curse of the pastrychef.

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I hate that people feel too daunted to bake for me. ‘Oh, but it won’t be as good as yours.’

It WILL. Everyone cooks differently. Everyone makes different dishes. I had never had a cake like this. And it was delicious.

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It was called a Better than Sex Cake. It was darn good. Fill a devils food chocolate cake with a half/half mix of caramel and sweetened condensed milk by pouring over the top of the cake, after poking holes in the top with a skewer, when it comes out of the oven. Top with whipped cream and crushed Heath bars. So. Good.

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I believe baking for someone else is one of the greatest pleasures in life. Being baked something makes you feel cared about and full of warmth. A man baked me something today. And it made me happy. Thank you Edward ☺



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