Woof! It's Your Birthday.

Birthdays? They are no joke around here. I seem to insist on birthdays lasting at least three days, although a week is ideal -- if we can think of that many ways to celebrate (and we usually can). This is serious business, people. Being born is only the most important thing you ever did! 

I happen to cohabitate with an individual who tends to dislike his own birthday (you, too, might happen to know an adult male who has this same conflict). My goal every year is to make him love his birthday, and I must say, I think I did a pretty bang-up job this time around. The way to make someone love growing older is, of course, to give them sugar. Lots of sugar. And lots of treats. Soon they will start to associate birthdays with deliciousness, and then all of sudden you are happily partnered to Pavlov's dog. Woof*. It's your birthday!

Matthew turned 39 on Friday. Whereas I typically give him lots of options for adventure and foods starting approximately two months before his actual birthday (Do you want a party? Where do you want to go? What do you want for dinner? Which night should we go? What kind of cake do you want? Tell me, tell me!) we both finally learned that this technique is completely unsatisfying for both of us. This is because A.) he doesn't want to make a decision, B.) he trusts my judgment, C.) he doesn't want to answer more questions than he has to, and D.) he thinks that if he doesn't make decisions about these things, his birthday will magically disappear and he will stop aging.

So I held off for as long as I could. Then, a few weeks ago, I dove in. And his answer was brilliant and direct. You decide where we go for dinner on Saturday. On Friday, let's have dinner at home. What?! This is the perfect solution. He hates deciding restaurants and food, I love deciding restaurants and food. Yes! I will choose the restaurant and the food! And it will be a secret! I love secrets! This was the easiest decision we ever made. (Although just to double check on Friday, I called him from work to make sure that pizza was okay for dinner, even though I know that it is his favorite food in the entire universe and he could eat it every single day for the rest of his life and be so happy. I asked, he paused. I reminded him, if I bring home pizza, you won't have to do dishes. No more pauses: Yes! Pizza! And we ended up eating it standing up in the kitchen as we drank these incredible cocktails he made, and we didn't even use plates! I don't even think I ate over a pizza box in college. I even sat my piece of pizza down on the kitchen table while I was eating it! It was a completely, utterly perfect dinner.)

Then, the next part, a question I held onto until two days before his birthday, which was quite a feat. (Keep in mind, I like to plan things YEARS in advance, people. I would have taken his birthday cake order last April if he would have allowed it.) Preparing myself for a conversation about it, I asked what kind of treat he wanted to take to school for his students. Without hesitation: Oatmeal raisin! I figured we must be on a roll. What kind of cake do you want?, I asked. Immediately: pound cake! Whoa.

See, folks, I have learned something. If you get an answer, take it. Take it and start walking. Walk far, far away. There was a time not so long ago (called, uh, 2001 through 2010) when I would have answered his answer with another question. This is a TERRIBLE idea. Never do this:

What kind of treat do you want for school?
Oatmeal cookies.
Are you sure? Just oatmeal? Do you want chocolate chips?
No, not really.
Raisins?
Yes.
Just raisins? Dried cherries? Dried cranberries? Nuts?
No, thanks.
Are you sure you want oatmeal? Do you want something fancier?
No, not really.
Whoopie pies? Cupcakes? Candy bars? Remember those brownies I made once?
Just oatmeal. With raisins.
Okay. Got it.
Okay, thanks.
Just oatmeal?

And this would go on and on. I was trying to find the thing that made him the happiest, but he was already happy, and making him have a conversation about it made him less happy. I'm trying to learn this. So when I asked what kind of cake he wanted, and he said pound cake, I restricted myself to two questions only. Would you like anything in it? and Would you like it to be iced? No and no were the answers, naturally. And then I went into the other room and thought about how sometimes I make things so much harder than they need to be. Not everything needs to be complicated. Not every decision requires six days of analysis. Not every cake needs to have thirty ingredients. And, luckily, simplicity is an extremely inexpensive birthday gift. I could really get used to this, I think.

Your Basic Birthday Pound Cake

makes 2 cakes (well, loaves, really)

1 pound (3 1/4 cups) all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon coarse salt (seems like a lot, but it's a great amount)
4 sticks softened unsalted butter, plus more for pans
2 cups sugar
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste
9 large, room-temperature eggs

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Butter two 5-by-9-inch loaf pans. Combine flour and salt in a bowl. In another bowl, cream butter and sugar with a mixer on high speed until pale and fluffy for 8 minutes. (YES! This seems like a lot of minutes, but you have to do it! Read a magazine while you mix.) Scrape down sides of bowl. Reduce speed to medium, and add vanilla. Lightly beat eggs, and add to mixer bowl in 4 additions (YES! FOUR!), mixing thoroughly after each and scraping down sides. Reduce speed to low, and add flour mixture in 4 additions (YES! FOUR!), mixing until just incorporated. Divide batter between pans. Tap on counter to distribute and smooth tops. Bake just until a tester inserted into center of each cake comes out clean, about 65-68 minutes. Watch them carefully at the end to make sure they don't overbake -- pound cakes dry out really quickly! Let cool in pans on a wire rack for 30 minutes. Remove from pans, and let cool completely on wire rack.

(Add anything else you want to this batter! Fruit, chocolate, lemon zest -- or, be a purist and just have it plain. Pound cake is also a little dry for me, so I prefer it with a fruit sauce or some other wet adornment. But I will stop giving you suggestions. You will do a great job figuring this all out on your own!)

*Thanks, Dawn. You know how funny it is when humans say "woof."