Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.

Submitter's Comments: (High Res Image)
It was the best of cakes; it was the worst of cakes. Well, probably not the former and hopefully not the later.

Once again, Ms. Silvia Lamay, my fictitious cake muse, sat at the bar in my kitchen. This time she wore a Threadless Tee designed by the artist Patric Schade titled, A Voyage To Lilliput.

“Making a cake based on this design comes with a double whammy bonus,” Silvia asserted, “It can be entered into the Threadcakes competition and lets you check ‘Converse High Top Sneaker’ off the list of obligatory cakes for cake sculptors. It’s right up there with the Cheeseburger cake.”

With those incentives I set to work making a vanilla cake with a plastic baby baked into it like the Mardi Gras King Cakes. I’ll spare you, gentle reader, the details of the baking, carving, and frosting of the cake as they consisted mostly of baking, carving, and frosting.

Silvia paid little attention to the ceremonial rolling of the fondant (all commercial this time out) but perked up as I began the process of double layering the fondant for the sides of the shoe.

“What are you doing?” she asked showing slight interest.

“I’m creating a 2-ply, 2-color layer of fondant to match the construction of an actual Chuck Taylor high top shoe. The outer layer of canvas is colored and the inner layer is off-white. I’m going for authenticity.”

“Impressive,” she responded lapsing back into disinterest, “don’t quit your day job.”

“Why would I want to quit my successful marketing career?” I asked.

“Successful marketing career?” she laughed, “And I thought I was fictitious.”

“I’ll have you know I created the slogan for Scataloni’s Organic Foods. ‘Tastes like the dung from which it sprung!”

“How’s that working out?” inquired Silvia.

“Disturbingly well.” I said.

“Can we get back to the cake?” asked Silvia, “And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.”

The rest of the fondanting process passed uneventfully. However, there was some small debate over the ropes holding down the shoe. I could go for realism which meant more fondant or maybe gum paste. Or I could add a splash of color and the delightful, artificial cherry flavor of Twizzlers. Since it was a cake to be eaten by my kids I opted for the Twizzlers.

“I am grateful to Patric Schade for the fact that his Lilliputians look like they are made of little twists of gum paste.” I said.

“Wait,” said Silvia, “Before you start positioning the Lilliputians we’re going to take the story one step further.” Then answering my quizzical look, continued, “The t-shirt design depicts the story of the capture of the shoe. But what happens next.”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It’s a shoe; I don’t expect a daring escape.”

Silvia rolled her eyes at me. “What would you if you had just captured a giant shoe?”

“Go in search of a giant foot?” I suggested.

“No, silly,” responded Silvia, “Group photo!”

“That doesn’t really move the story very far.” I said.

“That’s O.K., you’re not much of a storyteller,” said Silvia.

“Touché.” I responded.

After positioning all the Lilliputians and taking the final documenting photographs came the time to serve the cake. My daughter had a friend visiting from out of town. She was uncertain why she was being served a shoe cake but we didn’t bother to explain. The kids all fought over the Twizzler strips. I should have added more of those.

We never did find the plastic baby. Maybe it will show up later.