I don’t get red velvet cake. I mean, there a lot of things I spend my time lazily wondering about — why babies insist on hunting and eating the dirt off your carefully swept (I guess not) carpet, why I have not been able to persuade my husband to get me a kitchen maid (err, dirty dishes maid) Downton Abbey style, why people eat lima beans, who was the unlucky person(s) who found out the hard way (umm, death) that certain foods are poisonous, why men loathe using hampers, or why I should splurge to get our little guy this — and every once in a while my mind gets stuck on red velvet, baffling me to no end.
It’s teetering on the edge of being chocolate yet has such little cocoa it’s as if it is clinging to its vanilla roots with every ounce of flour only to be dyed the most vibrant shade of red. I’m getting the impression whoever came up with red velvet was a very fickle person. No, but seriously, what is the point of red velvet? I just don’t understand. If it is not loved for its strong, decided flavor camp, which it has none, is it the velvety, soft texture? Surely we all know, this is not the only or best cake with such a wonderful plush interior. If that’s not it, perhaps its loyal following is due simply to its color, something you definitely will not hear me complain about — but does that really have anything to do with the cake at all? Why not just dye a really good chocolate cake red, or your favorite orange cake (blood orange anyone?) red.