Whatever I do, I'm going to master it. I call this the Rum Cake Rule.
I cook. That's my thing. But I don't cook normal food. That's what grandmothers are for. I cook what my mom calls foo-foo food: Crawfish Etouffee, Cream Cheese Squash Soup, African-Thai Peanut Curry Soup, Quinoa Taco Meat Dip, Almond Meal Cookies. Ya know, sh*t that people look at and ask Shannon, what the f*ck is this? I mean really...
Marc, the guy I married, has been instructed to rate my dishes on a five-star system. I trust his opinion because there isn't a dish alive that has ever gotten five-stars from Marc... until he married me.
My foo-foo food is the source of legends. People travel to my home on the holidays to taste the crazy sh*t I've cooked up. And so, when I tried out a new Rum Cake recipe, I assumed Marc would rate it five stars.
He did not.
It's a 4-star cake, he said. Nice try.
Instead of f*cking him up, I went on the hunt for a bigger and better recipe. I scoured the internet for weeks. I took shots of different rums to determine which brand made my taste buds rejoice. And then I found the recipe I was looking for.
After I perfected my Rum Cake recipe, my dinner guests were calling for designated drivers. Because this is the thing, if you're going to do something, you better get drunk off of it.
In What If You're Over My Sh*t? that's what Marc does. He goes hard at life. No matter if he's writing code for the government, taking his morning run through L.A., taking his daughter out for ice cream, or treating Rachel to a foot rub. He lives by the Rum Cake Rule: Do it right. Get 'em drunk.
Here's the link to that rum cake recipe I stumbled across: http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/christmas-rum-cake/