You call this a cake?

You call this a cake?
8 September 2012

Okay, so I’ve admitted that cooking is not really my strong point.  It’s not so much that I’m bad at it.  I just don’t particularly live for it or thrive on it.  Now the thing is that I’m way better at cooking than baking.   So suffice it to say, my baking skills are pretty grim. 

 

Barring one foolish year, I never bake cakes for my kids birthdays.  It is just far simpler to outsource to a tuisnywerheid – chances are that somebody’s granny baked it then in any rate, so it still qualifies as home baking in my eyes.  And usually, I make use of my Mom’s neighbour in Tulbagh, who has her very own tuisnywerheid.  You simply would not believe the mouth-watering smells we’re subjected to when we visit at Muisnes – and it starts from before the crack of dawn.  Now getting party goodies all the way from Tulbagh, makes the eats way more special at one of my kids’ birthday parties – “imported” cakes and treats from the platteland.  Beat that!

Luke and Amber have birthdays in summer, so for quite a few years, they simply had Ice Cream Cakes.  Marvellously easy.  It’s simply a phonecall to Milky Lane and Bob’s your uncle.  One year, I ambitiously decided to make Luke a Ninja Turtle Cake for his birthday.  Me-thinks I aimed a bit high.  Will I ever forget the look of horror on his face, when he saw his cake.  And he was only about 6 at the time.  Disappointment personified.  I borrowed a mould from a friend’s mom-in-law and the actual cake surprisingly came out perfectly.  However, once I had covered the entire cake liberally with chocolate icing, it looked like a big chocolate blob – quite unappetising, truth be told.  No resemblance to a turtle at all.  Or a dog, or a car, or cat, or a cell phone, or anything at all.

Now the problem comes in, when I don’t plan well enough in advance.  This is a key flaw for me.  And a trap I fall into again and again, and let’s be honest, AGAIN.  So just the other day, when it was Cole’s birthday, I quickly dashed to the Muffin shop around the corner a mere few hours before the influx of party guests, and bought a whole bunch of “millionaire’s shortcakes” (or rather their version of them).  The plan was to pile them high on a platter, stick eight candles in them and hey, check it out – awesome birthday confection done!  Well, so it didn’t really work out so well.  Firstly they were bloody dreadful.  Secondly, they were rock hard, so I couldn’t effectively get the candles into them.  And then, the deathblow, was when a little 7 year old kid came up to me, tugged on my shirt and said “do you call that a cake?”.  So perhaps it was not my best effort.  Nobody ate even a single one.  Well, maybe that’s a bit unfair.  Because afterwards, the party table was liberally dotted with a whole bunch of millionaires shortcakes, but none of them had had more than one bite taken out of them.  So at least some kids were brave enough to try.  Big up to them.  Personally, I didn’t put a single one over my lips.

So perhaps, it’s time to step it up a notch.  A friend gave me an awesome recipe for a chocolate tray cake and I gave it a bash this afternoon.  I simply could not believe how awesome it was.  Delicious!  And I wasn’t even slightly hurt by my children’s amazement at my baking skills (well perhaps a little).  I felt a bit like Earth Mother, whipping up the cake.  Okay, so I did get a bit distracted and make one cardinal mistake, but so what.  It was the right colour.  It wasn’t burnt.  It looked quite spongy to the touch.  It smelt heavenly.  It looked edible, and in fact it was.  Well, I did first make sure, by making the kids eat theirs first, and when none of them visibly keeled over, I reckoned it was safe for me to eat a slice as well.  And I’m almost 100% sure that the fact that Grant’s stomach is feeling a bit unsettled this evening is mere coincidence (fingers crossed).  He did have an extra slice, so it would be his just “desserts” (ha-ha-ha!  Sorry, I couldn’t resist), if he feels a bit poorly. 

All I can say is, watch out Nigella.  I've set your Burkhini in my sights.