DAY THREE;
This update is a follow up from THIS ENTRY, in which my boyfriend wagers me that he can make a cheesecake. We come to an agreement that if he can make a fantastic cheesecake, he wins the right to cut my hair. The cheesecake he was assigned to make was this one.
Here's some pictures of the result he concocted up:
This is the out-of-the-oven result. It's overcooked. But in fairness, my oven is pretty shady-- it loves to burn things when you look away for 0.00001 seconds. So I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on this aspect.....
Ian gives a go at taking off the burnt outsides of the cheesecake. Poor guy was mightily confused by such things as the way in which baking ingredients are measured (he had an American recipe but luckily for him I have imported my own set of American measuring cups) and what exactly such terms as "creaming" "whisking" and "beating" mean. It's a whole new language of cakes.
CONCENTRATING ON THE CAKE. I only gave him marginal help and only when he was doing something horribly and terribly wrong. The ingredients weren't super cheap, after all. I'm too thrifty to allow a tenner to go to waste! It's interesting and perhaps a mark of how crazy strange our society is that it's far cheaper to buy a pre-made cake than to make one yourself!
Are chocolate chips and a melted chocolate lattice the same thing? Ian says "close enough". I distinctly disagree. You can see the bits of cookie dough in the sides here. Not sure 100% where the cookie dough went wrong, but it was almost indistinguishable from the cake in-mouth. Was alright though as cookie dough when raw.
It looks deceptively tasty here but don't be lulled into a false sense of fear for my hair, internet!
And, here's my last picture of the cake. Upon tasting it was, well, distinctly mediocre. Ian is very proud of it but I honestly didn't really like it all that much. I ate it for breakfast this morning! (Then I felt quite ill afterwards...) I had a second slice, which Ian claims should be enough to tip the scales that he ought to be permitted to cut my hair. I say, no way. Ian: "But Tess! If you didn't like it, you wouldn't have had another slice!" My response: "But I'm hungry! And the cake is here, for the eating!" Either way, I'm not sure I recommend it as a breakfast. But Ian still thinks he should be able to give me my haircut. So I'm going to put that one to you then, internet. In clearly objective terms: This cake was not all that good. Should I, based on its merits, allow Ian to give me a haircut? (If you're confused, check this post for backstory.) Let's have a poll.
Poll Does Ian win the right to cut my hair?
And, finally, for those of you who are interested in Ian himself: he is very tall and very skinny and has fluffy hair. He's twenty-three years old and Northern Irish, from just outside Belfast. I met him playing pool here at university. We both play on Tuesday nights. He finished his degree here in Chemistry last year and now he does like investing and stuff. Not investing but like investing (not to be confused with my propensity to "like" my sentences). Anyways, he is very kind and a bit awkward and quite unintentionally hilarious which is what I like in my boys so it works out. He was like "hey Tess let's date" and I was all "meh" but then my friends were like "Tess what are you doing date him" so I did and that was a couple months ago and now I like him loads and loads so huzzah I guess. I'm the least enthusiastic teller of this sort of story imaginable; people think I'm not excited, but I am! I just get embarrassed, so now I'm going to talk about something else.
Actually, I don't have much else to say today. I'm going to go for a run. So YEAH BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS I'LL BE OFF GETTING FIT OR PERHAPS IF YOU READ IT MUCH LATER I'LL BE FIT ALREADY. Whoop whoop.
Here's some pictures of the result he concocted up:
This is the out-of-the-oven result. It's overcooked. But in fairness, my oven is pretty shady-- it loves to burn things when you look away for 0.00001 seconds. So I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on this aspect.....
Ian gives a go at taking off the burnt outsides of the cheesecake. Poor guy was mightily confused by such things as the way in which baking ingredients are measured (he had an American recipe but luckily for him I have imported my own set of American measuring cups) and what exactly such terms as "creaming" "whisking" and "beating" mean. It's a whole new language of cakes.
CONCENTRATING ON THE CAKE. I only gave him marginal help and only when he was doing something horribly and terribly wrong. The ingredients weren't super cheap, after all. I'm too thrifty to allow a tenner to go to waste! It's interesting and perhaps a mark of how crazy strange our society is that it's far cheaper to buy a pre-made cake than to make one yourself!
Are chocolate chips and a melted chocolate lattice the same thing? Ian says "close enough". I distinctly disagree. You can see the bits of cookie dough in the sides here. Not sure 100% where the cookie dough went wrong, but it was almost indistinguishable from the cake in-mouth. Was alright though as cookie dough when raw.
It looks deceptively tasty here but don't be lulled into a false sense of fear for my hair, internet!
And, here's my last picture of the cake. Upon tasting it was, well, distinctly mediocre. Ian is very proud of it but I honestly didn't really like it all that much. I ate it for breakfast this morning! (Then I felt quite ill afterwards...) I had a second slice, which Ian claims should be enough to tip the scales that he ought to be permitted to cut my hair. I say, no way. Ian: "But Tess! If you didn't like it, you wouldn't have had another slice!" My response: "But I'm hungry! And the cake is here, for the eating!" Either way, I'm not sure I recommend it as a breakfast. But Ian still thinks he should be able to give me my haircut. So I'm going to put that one to you then, internet. In clearly objective terms: This cake was not all that good. Should I, based on its merits, allow Ian to give me a haircut? (If you're confused, check this post for backstory.) Let's have a poll.
Poll Does Ian win the right to cut my hair?
And, finally, for those of you who are interested in Ian himself: he is very tall and very skinny and has fluffy hair. He's twenty-three years old and Northern Irish, from just outside Belfast. I met him playing pool here at university. We both play on Tuesday nights. He finished his degree here in Chemistry last year and now he does like investing and stuff. Not investing but like investing (not to be confused with my propensity to "like" my sentences). Anyways, he is very kind and a bit awkward and quite unintentionally hilarious which is what I like in my boys so it works out. He was like "hey Tess let's date" and I was all "meh" but then my friends were like "Tess what are you doing date him" so I did and that was a couple months ago and now I like him loads and loads so huzzah I guess. I'm the least enthusiastic teller of this sort of story imaginable; people think I'm not excited, but I am! I just get embarrassed, so now I'm going to talk about something else.
Actually, I don't have much else to say today. I'm going to go for a run. So YEAH BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS I'LL BE OFF GETTING FIT OR PERHAPS IF YOU READ IT MUCH LATER I'LL BE FIT ALREADY. Whoop whoop.