Plum season. Juicy-ness.
This past weekend, I found myself at McCarren Park's lovely Saturday Farmer's Market, where there were plums a-plenty.
Set on making a Plum Tart, I found myself drooling over basket upon basket of beautiful and colorful plums at the fruit stand.
So, I stuffed 5 lbs of plums in my backpack, and rode my bicycle back to the homestead. All the while, Sugar Plum Fairies danced in my fuckin' head.
Well. I'm glad I got so many frikkin' plums, 'cause the tart was a no-go.
The dough was FUCKED before I even had a chance to fold in the sweet plum filling.
So, like a whiny bitch, I gave up and trashed that son-of-a-bitch.
And, instead, I made this turd.
A "Plum Cake."
We could also call it: "A flavorless, dry, quasi-attractive flour based substance in a pan, somewhat resembling cake."
I'm sticking with pies people. Tart dough is a beeeotch and this cake was garbage.
Oh yeah, Happy Monday.
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