Thursday, 3 March 2011

Birthday cake


No wonder it’s so cold inside. It’s perishing outside. Had nice chummy chat and calculation camaraderie over books of stamps with Norman in the village shop. Got six eggs. Jolly expensive, but never mind. Will now make Delicious Birthday Cake.


Where’s my Good Housekeeping Cookery Book?


Oh well, will have to busk it. Now, is it equal flour, sugar and butter? Aagh! No butter!


OK, approx 2oz Lurpak Spreadable, marbled with marmite, 2oz Bertolli Olive Oil Spread and 2oz fluorescent yellow Flora.

Right. Cake’s in the oven. Mmmm. Mix tastes delicious.


Oh God. What time did I put the cake in? When you smell it, it’s done, is what Mother used to say. Trouble is, I think my sense of smell is impaired (viz earlier mince pie misfortune), along with vision and sensation of breakfast around mouth.


Oh God. Mother said you should never open oven door when making a sponge or soufflé or it will sink in the middle. What time did it go in?


Will risk it. When it’s brown, it’s done, Mother used to say (to which Father would add, ‘and when it’s black it’s buggered’). Couldn’t very well not be brown, given that it’s full of cocoa powder, but looks pretty good. I take it out and prod it in middle to see if it springs back. Hmmm. Leaves dent. Similar to my feet in the pre-monsoon season in Asia. Ah well. It’s the taste that counts.


Right. Off to Sal’s. Oh, but what about the chocolate butter icing? Still some in fridge, left over from Lily’s cake. Made from real butter. Had better wait for cake to cool before spreading on.


Must be cool enough by now.


Disaster. Butter icing has melted into an oily pool in the middle. What would Nigella do? Oh well, will sprinkle extra cocoa powder on top and hope for best. 

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