...I'm not a natural baker.
Last Saturday I had a notion to make a cake. Now this doesn't happen often and when it does I have to go out and buy all the makings. I daren't have butter in the house because it haunts me, flour is not something I use much unless I am making a cake and we already know that's a rare thing, the only one who eats eggs is the old man, so naturally I never have any of those...
Anyway, I found a recipe for Victoria Sponge that being my favourite. Bear in mind that I have an O level in Housecraft and have actually made one of these on more than one occasion. The book I was looking in (I realised this at a later stage) assumed that one would be using a big mixer. I don't have one of those and tend to rely on the wooden spoon and hand blender from about 1978 method of mixing. So, this recipe tells you to bung it all in and get mixing. Not being a natural baker, or it seems, clever enough to suss out the fact that a mixer was required here, I did it. In my bowl I had butter (not softened, why bother? I soon found out.) Flour, sugar and beaten eggs. For those of you who are indeed natural bakers you can imagine the state I got myself into. And my kitchen. Embarassed though I am, I took pictures.
Eventually, after leaving it in the oven a tad too long and enjoying licking the bowl out a little too much, I ended up with a cake.
On Sunday, said Teenage Daughter, (on a jolly from the children's home) made cup cakes. I have to say that they were so light and fluffy and spongy they could have been sold in a shop. Little mare.
I have decided that one of my ambitions has gone up the swanee. Just because I am good at buying china doesn't mean I would be any good at owning a tea shop. Unless I employ the teenage daughter to do the cooking.
No danger of me entering The Great British Bake Off.