Yesterday, I baked a cake.
For most, this is not a particularly significant experience and certainly not worth blogging about.
I am not most.
The last time I baked anything was for a girlfriend”s surprise baby shower, which I organised, and I spent an entire DAY making cupcakes with blue and pink icing (frosting), sending my then boyfriend out in the rain multiple times to get MORE MORE MORE icing sugar.
My girlfriend’s daughter turned two last month.
Another disincentive to bake, other than my sizeable indifference, is the lack of temperature indicators on my oven dials. I have no idea how hot the oven is at any time.
However, I have felt the baking urge come on over the last few weeks, obviously after being absent for many years, and after spotting a recipe for a chocolate beetroot cake that a Twitter buddy had tried, with success, I decided to make it happen.
It took most of the day and there were a few moments of high anxiety. Was it worth it? Let’s see…
I had to buy most of the ingredients brand new, because I obviously don’t have leftover ingredients from previous baking experiences…
This was my first time cooking with raw beetroot. Someone on Twitter (yes, I live-tweeted the experience) told me several minutes after I started grating that I should wear gloves when doing so…
The recipe called for 35 minutes in the oven. At the 35 minute mark, the cake was still very wobbly in the middle. In the end it took an hour, but it managed to remain evenly cooked throughout. Extraordinary really, since I had NO idea what the temperature was inside the oven.
Prior to icing, an afternoon nap was required. Obviously. During this time, the intended recipient of my cake, my aunt who was flying in from interstate to spend Easter with me, called and advised that she’d missed her flight and wasn’t coming at all.
Gutted, I had no energy left to figure out exactly how I could create enough juice from squeezed beetroot to colour the icing. The fall back alternative of artificial food colouring was applied. Some might say a little too liberally.
I now have a lot of leftover beetroot, so I might try my hand at making some beetroot soup before the Easter weekend is out.
I dropped off half the cake to my Grandpa this morning – he’s a cake man. He advised me via text message an hour later that he had already had two slices.