Oh man. I bet you thought this post was going to be all about me crying during baking therapy because of my dad. Chances are that did happen at some point, but it wasn’t while I was making these eyeball cake pops. Get it, balling my eyes out. I know, just wait until you see how pun-y and cheesy and awkward I can get. It’s pretty amazing if I do say so myself.
Anyway, I’ve always been inspired by Bakerella and her cake pops. To add to the million other appliances we have at the apartment (waffle maker, popcorn popper, ice cream maker, espresso maker, french press, juicer….) my mom bought me a cake ball maker.
Now listen, Bakerella makes it a look easy, but MAN did I fail about 100000 times before getting this right. It’s tough, but worth it when you bite into 100 of these babies. What, you don’t eat 100 cake pops by yourself? Oh. Well….I did.
So one liiiiitle thing that does remind me of my father (hey, this IS baking THERAPY after all) is that his sweet tooth was literally with him until the day he died. I mean, he was SICK, like really really awful, something from your nightmares kind of sick and he STILL ate the shit out of some cake pops.
You see, when my mom bought me the cake ball maker I was at home helping the fam and poppa dukes as all of this icky icky horrible cancer was going down.
One thing my mom and I have in common is that baking helps us get through the hard times. So after a particularly tough day, she and I decided to test this baby out and make about 100 cake pops.
Well, doodle bear (that’s my dad’s nickname) couldn’t hold much down at the time, except for these cake pops. I think he ate 6 of them in one sitting. It was magical.
So when I got back to LA after this terrible ordeal, I decided that eyeball cake pops would be the perfect project to keep me occupied. Baking, decorating, etc. 100 of these took me about 4 hours. And it was awesome.
Four hours of happiness after a rough couple of weeks seems like the best present a girl can give herself.
And that was that.