My name is Jeremy Feist, and yes, as the title suggests, I am a Montreal-based, 18-year-old gay porn star. Spiffy, huh? Sorta. What's the point of this blog, anyway?
Basically, this is how it works: I'll bake a couple new sugary bits of awesome every week, and then post the recipes here on the blog. Sometimes it'll just be words and text, and sometimes it'll be full-on video...At least, it will be once I figure out how to edit video anyway. Either/Or, really. Oh, and just to up the ante, I'll be doing it all wearing nothing but an apron. And I do mean NOTHING but an apron. Ha ha! Unseen dangly bits.
Isn't Johnny Hazzard doing something exactly like this? Only better?
*Sticks fingers in ears* ALALALALALALALA I CANNOT HEAR YOU I CANNOT HEAR YOU ALALALALALALALALA!
ALALALALALALALALALALALALALA! Alright fine. So why baking?
Well, here's more or less how it started...
The first time I ever baked was my Dad's 39th Birthday (Which I think made me 12...ish). I decided to bake him a coffee cake after finding a recipe in an old cookbook, and ended up whipping up a batter from scratch. It was perfect...at least it would have been, if my brothers hadn't decided to take some artistic freedom with the whole thing.
As it turns out baking, like most everything else, goes pretty well until you throw family into the mix, at which point it all sort of goes to shit. My older brother decided to add sprinkles to the batter, which are pretty much the culinary equivalent of Megan Fox: garrishly pretty, without adding any redeeming qualities to the mix. Naturally, said sprinkles sunk to the bottom of the pan during the actual baking process and formed a blackened shell that sealed the cake to its cooking vessel. Awesome.
Now, granted we could have just smoothed this over with icing, but once again my brothers intervened, slathering the cake in blue and green icing, then littering it in a mess of sprinkles (again with the fucking sprinkles...WHY WOULD YOU USE SPRINKLES?!), peppermints and old chocolate chips, which we found out moments later were infested by bugs. Mmmmmm...The end product, though delicious, was the cake wreck to end all cake wrecks.
But it wasn't the end product, it was the process that hooked me. The mixing, the measuring, watching as the batter rose up into a golden brown cake...I was done. However, I put my baking in the backseat for about a year, until of course my parents divorced. Afterwards, I used baking as a form of therapy to get me through it, and eventually, it evolved into an easy way for me to keep my Chakras balanced.
Fair enough. One more question before we go though.
Shoot. You're just ripping off Johnny Hazzard, aren't you?