My brother has become the keeper of the parental flame when it comes to making rum cakes. Unlike Mom and Dad, however, David has branched out into making rum cakes of different shapes and sizes—not just the original, standard-sized bundt cake. I imagine he sells his creations and/or gives them away, depending on the situation.
I saw this photo, or one like it, months ago, and I crassly joked that it looked as though David had jizzed all over his cakes, thoroughly coating them with warm gouts of sa semence. He took my comment good-naturedly, in the spirit in which it had been intended.
While Skyping with David the other day over my cell phone, I asked him why the two bundt cakes in the picture—you can see them both sitting on green plastic plates waaaay at the back—seemed to be off-kilter, leaning drunkenly one way or the other. David said it was because he hadn't bothered to saw off the lumpy bottoms to even the cakes out. Thing is, I don't recall Mom's or Dad's cakes ever being quite that unevenly lumpy. Ah, well. What matters most is the taste, not the look. And some might say the unevenness adds character.
I'll have to ask David if I can order a few of his cakes. My only worry is that they might not survive the trans-Pacific voyage.