No, I am not blogging from inside of the Lobster. Obviously I survived the last post but it could be because the entire team got together to motivate my baking efforts and support me through the process. I might not be a sweet person but I am a sweet person (even though I say so myself) – cakes, cheesecakes, apple pies bring not a smile but a huge grin on my face. I have been known to demolish not just a quarter kg of the famed Bangalore Mysorepak but also half a German Chocolate cake. A jam doughnut in my stores makes me happy just thinking about it. I have been also known to buy myself an entire Decadence Cake from Cosentino's smothered with chocolate flakes just because I felt I deserved it. I beg for the icing on the birthday cakes and my heart breaks to see it scrapped off by others and left banished to the edge of the plates. I have had Tiramisu for breakfast and let me tell you what a perfect beginning it is to the day. Walking around a confectionery is one happy trip that involves physical exercise, a lot of salivating and a content soul.
But baking what I salivate over…that is another story. Soulful Slurper pings me links and more links of perfect pieces of cake served with perfect cups of tea in just about perfect houses. There are luscious fresh fruit with cream piled carelessly over moist mouthwatering slices of cake. There are layered wonders filed with chocolate and topped over with more chocolate. And then…here I am, can’t even bake a simple sponge cake, and some dame goes and uploads pictures of a chequered cake that has been color-coded into a delightfully looking eatable chessboard.
How hard can it be to bake? “It’s simple”, I am told by the company I keep. All you need is flour, butter, baking soda, eggs, vanilla essence, a baking mould, and of course an oven.
I have a very good oven…
“Ok, then, get yourself the rest of the ingredients.”
How much baking powder?
“A pinch and don’t add more thinking that it’s going to do the trick – you will end up with a funny taste in your mouth”.
“Remember exact measurements ARE important.”
“Don’t use butter straight from the fridge.”
“Try cooking butter.”
“I only use normal butter.”
“Cooking Butter is good”
“I only use normal butter.”
“Use fresh eggs.”
“Don’t tell her ‘fresh’ eggs! Before you know it she will be staring at the hen and waiting for it to lay a couple of eggs.”
“Mix the whites first, then the yellow.”
“I mix the eggs together – I throw it in the mixie along with the butter and sugar”
“I use a hand blender.”
“Make sure you fold in the flour gently”
“Make sure you blend it in one direction”
“Make sure you blend it so that it falls from the spoon in even undulating consistency.”
“Make sure it’s not too watery or that it lands in blobs.”
With all this information overload and a simple recipe for a simple sponge cake, I resolve to bake in the weekend. I am so nervous that I can cut the tension with a knife like you would a three-tiered wedding cake. I am so nervous while blending the ingredients, buttering the dish, preheating the oven, and so overwhelmed that the mixture fell from the spoon in even undulating waves of batter, that it is only after I put the mould inside the oven that my daughter hands me the butter that I had kept aside to thaw!
So went the first attempt-butterless…the cake looked good – I mean it was round and golden-brown and looked like a cake. Just that it tasted like sweetened bread and ahem…not as soft as bread.
“You forgot the BUTTER?”
“How can you forget the BUTTER?”
Never mind…lets try again. Once again the recipe was followed, this time with the BUTTER and all was perfect. Till I forgot the cake was in the oven and the oven got too hot. Well, CSI New York was on and Mac Taylor got car-napped. And before that was CSI-Miami and Horatio got shot. And before that was CSI and Laurence Fishbourne was making his first appearance…
After the many incredulous looks, and howls of laughter, and weeks of half-baked jokes at my expense, I bought a pressure cooker cake mix. It was perfect! Probably because the daughter mixed it with attentive patience and love.
All baking efforts have been relegated to the background and instead I have been re-instated as one of the recipe hunters for the one person in our team who has been born to bake – and so for hunting down links on baking a variety of goodies, I am given the first warm, wondrous pieces of croissants, breads, cakes etc. I am not complaining ;-)
Some people are born to be bakers,
Some are made to be paratha makers.
I can knead the dough, stuff it and roll it out,
But a simple cake mix throws me in doubt,
So I’ve simply given up baking doorstoppers.
