Everyone has their own quirks about cakes in my home . The younger one loves chocolate cake , any shape and size will do . If I do not slather my cake with chocolate icing , she makes her own version of chocolate sauce and is very happy using it. Elder one professes to love vanilla and strawberry , but she has been known to raid the fridge at ungodly hours for a bite of her sister’s gooey chocolatey brownies.
I , for one, do not go for colour or flavour . Anything sweet will do . My cakes are sweet , as in veering towards ungodly levels . My husband keeps a constant check on the amount of sugar , before I turn a baked goodie into “poisonously sweet substance “.
This Christmas , I had vowed to bake plum cake . I wanted to soak the dry fruits in rum , but having teetotallers around didn’t help much . As a result , I baked several cakes with the dry fruits soaked in orange juice .
Got complimented for them , so I guess I did ok .
Eating cake , warm from the oven is a ritual in our home . Papa cuts the cake up into bite size pieces and places them into plastic containers , for he does it best .
Now , that he is away , his daughters do the honours , and we miss him .
Chocolate cake eaters demand vanilla ice cream to increase the sin quotient . After the double dessert , most of us teeter on the edge of a food coma, and my daughter becomes hyper -charged . It is a guilty pleasure we all indulge in .