Pastel es Buena (Or Pablo Escobar, Manuel Noriega, and My Tres Leches Cake)

Friday I promised to hook you up with the recipe for the tres leches cake I made for Nicole’s Taco Bell themed birthday party if it wasn’t a disaster. I only had one bite because I generally consider cake to be a complete waste of calories, but I didn’t hate it.


A few people sought me out to tell me I should open up a bakery so I’ll take it as a sign that it didn’t seriously suck….

I must tell you, though: it absolutely resembled Manuel Noriega’s* pock-marked face at one point in the baking process.

Remember him from the 80s?

Dictator from Panama?

De Facto ruler of Panama? Source

Infamous drug trafficker and CIA informant?

Embroiled in the Iran/Contra scandal?


Oh well.

He was super infamous back then, and his face totally looked like my cake.


Do they make Accutane for cakes?

Do they make Accutane for baked goods?

Sorry, cake, the skewering was necessary to get the tres leches to sink into you properly.

Manuel, I really don’t know what else to say except that when you make a lot of money working with Pablo Escobar and the Medellin, sometimes you end up rotting in prison (but Jesus and your mom still love you, so that totally counts for something.)

Besides, we ALL had awkward pasts.

I know I did….

Second grade was not a good year for me.

Second grade was not a good year for me.

The fact that this is my father’s favorite picture from my childhood leads me to believe one of two things: 1) Love TRULY makes a person blind or 2) The man was hoping his only child would die a virgin. (If you know my dad either of these would be plausible hypotheses, by the way.)

I digress.

We were talking about cake.

Once you cover it up with whipped cream and toasted coconut, everyone forgets about the cake’s awkward adolescence.

When doesn’t whipped cream, toasted coconut, and a smattering of edible flowers fix everything, though?

Edible flowers and talking Taco Bell dogs make everything better.

Everything that isn’t fixed by a bottle of Bacardi and the talking dog from Taco Bell, I mean.

So, anyway, I know I’m saying all this stuff about how I basically hate cake and that it looked like an imprisoned Panamanian at one point, but the truth is that I scoured the internet for a tres leches recipe that would be as addictive as the cocaine that caused Noriega’s problems, and this one truly, truly sounded SO much better than the others.

And that’s why I picked it.

In the end, the birthday girl LOVED it.

Toasting with tres leches.

And that’s all that matters.

So here’s the recipe. I found it on Chow.

Get some.

*There’s also a Mexican field hockey player named Manuel Noriega, and a Mexican actor named Manuel Noriega Ruiz, or so the internet says. Just in case you were wondering….