I could just see the birthday cake ? rich, dense finger-thick slices dusted with powdered sugar, sitting on pretty dessert plates with a dollop of lazy whipped cream, a mint leaf? delicate forks, embroidered napkins?it all evoked some mirage having to do with the Kentucky Derby and fancy hats? Chocolate Bourbon Pound Cake called to me like a siren?s song with a Southern accent. And the recipe ? it was a straightforward enough nine stepper that started with ?preheat to 350? and ended with the cake cooling on a wire rack. Easy. Or so I thought.

But in the reality, in the process and in the mess of my kitchen, it became quite clear that what that cake really was ? was a caveman cake. And it had me running around in circles with nowhere to hide. It was crass + base, wild in that throw-you over-the-shoulder-and-spin-you-around way. Hell ? with ingredients like a pound of butter, a brick o...
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