September 30, 2012 by hattersleysmith
Nothing is more satiating than a night of baking antics, than the melted dark chocolate dripping down the spoon, soft erotically squodged margarine and the gentle smoke rising from the bag of self-raising flour.
Since I can remember, it’s always been about the cake making. The crack-whisk-plonk-pour-stickiness of it all, the smudge and gooiness, the mess and lick-of-the-spooneyness. Mmmmmmm. To say I’m a fan of donning the apron and getting stuck in with the wooden spoon couldn’t be more of an understatement, I’ve most definitely inherited my mum’s love of all things bakeable, not only because of that lovely soft tousled flour-in-the-hair blushed-from-the-oven look one can open the door with, but also because of the stuff-one’s-face-with-mixture satisfaction that you only get from large bowls and spatulas. Add two of one’s best friends and you’re faced with The Bake Effect multiplied to a point of near combustion.
Wednesday brought Miss Bartle, Miss Briggs and I a delightful night of sifting, measuring, shoving-in-the-ovening productivity to ‘voila’ chocolate, red velvet and lemon curd cakes for Em’s 21st birthday bash. All hands were on deck as chocolate was mashed, baking powder teaspooned, eggs mooshed, (rude Stork giggled at), oven eventually turned on and sugar everywhere.
Biddy and Bartle hands on
Bartle with the rude Stork
It was a night of tribulation, tittering and triumph, of house-bonding and much needed girl time, providing smiles, mess and deliciousity.
All the world needs right now is The Bake Effect.