I’ve spent the last few weeks — no, months — frustrated with my house. When I bought it last summer, I was under the impression that it was in good condition and that I wouldn’t have too much work to do. But how wrong I was!
Because the truth is that there’s been something wrong almost every week since moving in. First, it was minor issues like falling door knobs and leaky faucets… then I started noticing bigger issues like a crowded kitchen (not to mention seriously outdated — no hood, disposal, or dishwasher… can you imagine this situation for a food blogger?!), lack of natural light in the living room, and an incredibly outdated electrical panel. Are home owners supposed to feel pride? Because I feel nothing but shame and stress. This fact was exacerbated a few nights ago when I showed some friends around. I could see the disappointment in their faces. They smiled weakly during my tour, trying to say encouraging things like "Wow, the previous owners really didn’t do a whole lot with this, huh?" and "Well, it has a lot of potential!"
But they’re right — the house does have a lot of potential. It was built in 1912, putting it at just over 100 years old, and it has some beautiful details that are indicative of its age: bay windows, doug fir floors and a claw foot bathtub. If handled with care and love, some updates and a paint job could really turn the place around. Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor the money to provide or purchase any of those things. So instead I’m playing landlord and stuffing way too many people in the house so I can afford a new kitchen by next year. And while the extra rental income definitely has its perks, I’d say it doesn’t outweigh the cons of too many negligent tenants, none of whom particularly understand or care about my stresses.
Later, as I was basically sobbing on the phone to my mom, she told me to be patient. "Most houses take time," she said. "You have to take it in steps." I nodded weakly, secretly sighing at her response. It was something I’d heard from too many people, far too often in the last few months. But she’s right. They’re all right. It was something I knew myself. I will eventually have the home that I want — it will just take a lot of money (sigh) and time.
So with that, I present this coconut cream crepe cake:
Similar to my plight, this cake takes time, patience, and many layers. Eventually, after many layers of thin, delicate French crepes, coconut jam and coconut cream, the stack forms a beautiful, snow-white cake. The resulting cake is a slightly spongey, pillowy texture from the stacked crepes, with a lightness from the coconut cream. Every bite is a creamy dream and a reminder that with time and patience, I will eventually have the beautiful home that I want.
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