Having your cake...
...an allegory for the hungry writer
Hello!
Today, I’m catching up from sunny Queensland where I’m having a few days with my daughter’s family - I’ve just enjoyed a lemon, ginger, and basil tea, a brew so soothing and energising at the same time that I can’t decide whether I want to just chill for the day or get out and do something.
The following little story - about cake, but not really about cake - was cut from my last chat because the whole thing was not only way too long, but a bit disjointed.
For today, I’ll let it stand alone.
Bear with me.
I like cake, but I don’t often bake these days… I’ve never been a great cook of any sort, but I’m well aware that the more you do something the better you get at it. There are some dishes that I’ve got down pat now, and I cycle round them for meals for the resident-young-adult and myself – they are in limited supply because they need to meet both our sensory needs, be gluten free for me, mostly dairy free for her, and not contain tomatoes or onions or loads of garlic.
But this was about cake
(and, you may have guessed it — but it is really a thinly disguised allegory about writing).
As I was saying I haven’t baked for a while, partly because of general lack of motivation, and partly because, for the last couple of years, I have been without a working oven (and my air fryer is too small to bake cakes in).
Then, a short while ago, my Brisbane based daughter contacted me and asked for my mother’s iconic tea cake recipe. This cake, which has been a firm family favourite for years, is a war-time special from her younger days (ie my mother’s younger days, just to be clear) and has a few quirky tricks to make it both delicious and, um, cake.
I duly searched it out, sent a photo of the original handwritten piece that has been tucked inside Mum’s cook-book since long before I was born (there are actually quite a few cook-books on her shelf, but this one in particular is the cookbook), then, because the ink has become faint, transcribed it to computer, and sent a copy.
By the end of the day, my daughter had baked the cake and sent me pictures*.
*I have always been fascinated by her ability to just do it! She didn’t get that from me or her dad – we are both professional level procrastinators (for different reasons). It seems to have come down from further up the gene pool – I have a brother like that, too, but can’t put my finger on where he inherited it from (although our dad is a possible contender).
I was inspired.
But to bake, I first had to find the right tools – this involved tracking down a mini oven inside my budget and finding a suitable baking tin from amongst my mother’s hoard.
Then I had to make some changes to ensure that my cake would be Cate-safe, ie. gluten-free and coeliac-friendly, including adding an egg (a war-time rarity in Manchester) because gluten-free flour doesn’t much like sticking together.
The cake was delicious.
I was inspired to go further.
Partly because I like cake, and partly because I had forked out a few bob on a mini oven that I don’t really have any other use for in mind.
So, another childhood favourite was Jamaica Ginger Cake, a commercially produced cake of such delectable properties that, for a long time, any member of our family heading over to the Old Country was charged with the responsibility of bringing back several packages of this treasure (along with other such delicacies as Silver Shred Marmalade and proper Fig Rolls).
Anyway, Jamaica Ginger Cake was a dark, rich, moist cake, and to find a recipe, I had to research online, then fiddle with the ingredients to suit my needs and make it coeliac-friendly.
I followed the amended recipe.
The result was a disaster.
I was inclined to throw it away, but I hesitated to waste all the (fairly expensive) ingredients.
I realised, too late, of course, when I thought about it, that I needed to have cooked it lower and slower to avoid the charcoaled top and sides.
I needed to have put it on a lower shelf in the mini oven.
I needed to have checked it more often.
But all that wasn’t going to help this cake.
As I said, I was unwilling to simply let it go, so I took a sharp knife and cut off the burnt bits. The rest was very dense, but tasted quite okay. It just wasn’t cake.
I thought about it some more – I needed some way to insert more air.
Perhaps, next time, I will separate the eggs and whip the whites to fold in at the end?
In short, I Iearned from my disaster.
But I still wasn’t ready to give up entirely.
As I said, it just wasn’t cake.
However, teamed with a generous dose of custard and a quick blast in the microwave, it turned out to be a jolly good ginger pudding.
Moral of the story:
Make sure you have the right tools (and information).
Practise with the familiar.
Know what you are aiming for.
Don’t be too ambitious, too soon,
but do be prepared to try new things and take risks.
Learn from your mistakes.
Take what you can from your efforts, and find ways to make them work.
Be happy with your results, even if they weren’t quite what you were aiming for,
and, last but not least, take what you have learnt and try again.
I will be doing a reprise of the ginger cake. It may still not be quite perfect, but the only way to get it right is to practise.
Take from this what you will. It can probably be moulded and manipulated to suit any occasion, but it definitely fits with writing. Or any creative endeavour.
It is a story about perseverance, something we are often told we need but are rarely told what it looks like. It’s also about curiosity, discovery, and believing. And possibly several other things, like the power of trial-and-error.
What are your thoughts?
Anyway, for now, I am being a lady of leisure, sharing a blow-up mattress and my snuggly sleeping bag (bought for car camping on the way up that never quite happened) with two not-quite-snuggly cats in my daughter’s front room.
We are about to head off (sans cats) in search of some easily accessible viewpoint for hopeful whale watching without too much walking (I’m getting there but my ITB stress injury is still too stressed to walk far) or going out to sea in a boat (not one of my favourite pastimes).
EDIT: we may or may not have seen whales, but we did have a wonderful day that included a longish (for me in my current state) walk, hot chips, and a cool, cool, delicious lemonetta sorbet!
And sea. Glorious, beautiful sea.
Have a wonderful day.
Maybe bake a cake.
.
I'll probably post about the lemonetta sorbet as The Silly Yak on my Aiming for Fit & Well facebook page... if anyone is interested.
Just what I needed to read with my cuppa! Your warming newsletter brought back some lovely memories of my daughter's first foray into cooking. Initially, her first attempts were not that good and one particular dish was a disaster. I said 'Oh well, let's try it again and see what happens' and fortunately it worked. She is now an excellent cook and will try most recipes including international dishes which I shrink from. Recently she told me that 'Let's try it again' day was a pivotal moment for her cooking skills. Looking forward to another version of your tea cake, Cate!