Holy moly, we’ve been married for well over a decade and my baker hubby finally baked me a cake. Let me tell you, I’ve had numerous occasions over the years to doubt his master-baker skills. For instance, I asked him to bake me a cake for my birthday party, which he agreed to do. Flipping heck, he arrived home with the biggest Black Forest Gateaux you’re ever likely to see… courtesy of his staff.
Children’s cakes, no-way, staff baked them. Even our wedding cake, baked by staff, iced and decorated by some dear lady in Retreat. Which reminds me, did I tell you we finally chucked the wedding cake away a couple of weeks ago? We’d intended keeping it for our first borns celebration, but that hasn’t happened so out it went. Baby or celebration that is! But don’t worry, we have 4 children between us, so we’re not complaining.
But anyway back to this weekend’s baking event. Unbeleivably we have bananas growing in our garden and not being fast enough fruit eaters they were about to hit the compost heap. Hubby dashed off to the factory leaving me in bed and came back super quick with ingredients and baking trays. I nearly fell out of bed when he said he was baking me a cake before breakfast. Before I knew it the bananas were skinned, the oven was on and I hadn’t even made my way to the shower.
Out of desperation some years ago, I asked hubby for a cake recipe, which he duly put together and handed over. Now I’m not good in the kitchen, and understanding quantities-produced based on ingredient-weight is foreign to me. Suffice to say I ended up making 10 cakes and almost hit hubby with the final baking tray.
So we’ve had our first home-made cake – actually it ended up being cakes – maybe after another ten years or so we might get another…I’m not holding my breath.