I’ve been baking cakes practically all my life.

Once, when I was a little kid, I started up the lawnmower in the basement. What was the mower doing in the basement? It was winter, and we didn’t have a garage. What was I doing in the basement? Just goofing around, when I noticed that there were directions printed on the mower. I didn’t think at all about what the directions were for or what would happen if I followed them. I just saw them, and carried them out.

If you think lawnmowers are loud, try starting one in the basement. My dad came flying down the stairs, moving faster than I think he’s probably ever moved in his life. I got in massive trouble – which I did not understand at all. It said, “Turn the red switch to the “on” position…” I just did what it said! And I was the one getting in trouble? Clearly, the directions should’ve started with, “If you’ve just recently learned to read, don’t touch this mower.”

I still love carrying out directions. Whenever I buy something that comes with directions – especially electronics – I always read them, cover to cover. I have to say, I rarely come across anything written with such unmistakable clarity that a child could follow it, yet so succinct, you could print it in large font on the handle of a lawnmower.

A handful of years after the infamous incident, my parents decided they could trust me with fire, so I started baking box cakes. My brothers went in for Tonka trucks and little league; I liked Duncan Hines – and I probably liked the directions as much or more than the cake. I was not a normal child and grew up to be not a normal adult. I had a serious directions habit that led to Shake ‘n Bake, Hamburger Helper, the recipes on the insides of Ghiradelli wrappers, and eventually to some really hard-core shit like Martha Stewart Living. My family attempted an intervention, but I was having none of it. I went so far off the deep end that I eventually became a food blogger and started writing my own goddamned directions!

My love of directions and of food combine pretty naturally to make me very comfortable in the kitchen, which is where I’ve spent a good deal of time baking cakes. Of all the cakes I’ve baked, Persian Love Cake is one of the best. It is truly a cake that any cake-lover will love, beautifully suitable for presenting to someone you love. It doesn’t taste homemade. It doesn’t taste like something you’d get from behind a deli or diner counter. It doesn’t even taste like many cakes you might get from a bakery. It doesn’t have a buttercream frosting or a ganache. You can’t bake it in a mug in the microwave. It’s not flavored with the usual suspects: chocolate, carrots, yellow, angels. It is separate from all that. The love to whom you feed this cake will feel as uniquely special, exotically wonderful, and as quietly beautiful and fussed over as is this cake. It looks astonishing without the slightest trace of inauthenticity. It tastes like something you might get in an old-world, European restaurant – the kind that’s actually in Europe – and you’d be thrilled that you’d ordered it.

It has an exquisite texture. It’s moist and feels rich, but isn’t at all heavy. Its flavors are separate and complementary: strawberry, cardamom, lemon, rose water, pistachio – each one has a part to play in a beautifully harmonious whole, like a wind quintet playing Mozart. And the directions are, well, fantastic of course.

In the past, I’ve created elaborate Valentines dinners. This year, I’m just going with Love Cake.

Click here for the recipe.

Persian Love Cake

Credit for images on this page: Make It Like a Man! This content was not solicited by love. It may have been elicited by love … maybe an illicit love.

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