You know, when your great-grandpa is turning ninety (that's thirty times older than you!) you might want to make him a cake.
We'll make the cake together. You pour the oil (which does look like apple juice, but sure doesn't taste like it, does it?) and count the eggs before I crack them and turn the mixer on low then medium then wow! that's fast! You decide that it should be a dinosaur cake and you, of course, don't mean this to be a joke about age, you're just sure everyone loves dinosaurs. And why wouldn't they?
The cake: chocolate with green buttercream. The dinosaurs will love it.
My mama always used homemade buttercream frosting (butter, sugar, vanilla, splash of milk) and there is nothing like it. Buttercream is sweet and feels good in your mouth and gets a perfect, crystalline, feather-light crunch at room temperature. It is also very good piped onto a finger and licked clean, just like that. And a little will go a long way; try not to ruin your dinner.
Grandpa loves his cake, but I think more than anything he loves you. You help him blow out his candles and he is very appreciative. You blow out the candles in your underwear because there is so much fresh garden soil in Nan's yard, boxes and boxes of it, and you're only human, right?
It's good to be ninety, but I can tell there is nothing like being three.