Pages

Subscribe: Subscribe to me on YouTube

Wednesday, June 06, 2012

Much like Boris Johnson before her, Amelie's position on cake is pro-having it and pro-eating it. Even as she scaled the cliff face on Monday, I couldn't help wondering if she'd mistaken it for a giant rock cake. So it came as no surprise to me when she got swept up in a wave of patriotism on Monday night and declared that she wanted to round off the weekend's celebrations by making a Jubilee Cake on Tuesday.

To be honest, I think her proposal had less to do with a fervent love for the monarchy, and more to do with a lifelong passion for buttercream, but either way, I had the day off work, so I was happy to oblige. Particularly as Lisa went down with a sudden attack of morning sickness, leaving me with a three-year-old to entertain for five hours.

Now, I'm not known as a food blogger - let's face it, I'm generally too busy eating it to write about it - but I'm not afraid to break new ground (after nine and a half years), so for the benefit of anyone scouring the internet for new recipe ideas, here's a step-by-step guide to making your very own Jubilee Cake...

1. The first step is by far the most crucial. You have to pop out to the shops and buy a Betty Crocker Carrot Cake Mix and a tub of ready-made buttercream icing. There's simply no other method worth discussing. Once you've done that, preheat your oven to gas mark 4, and crack three eggs into Lisa's favourite coffee cup...


The stigmata on the hand is optional, but does mean that you can feed five thousand people with just the one cake.

2. Add the eggs to the cake mix, along with 70ml of oil and 200ml of water...


3. Realise that you've forgotten to grease the cake tins, and do it quickly, before Lisa wakes up and wants to use the last of the butter on her toast...


4. Combine the ingredients thoroughly using an electric mixer which almost certainly shouldn't be operated by children...


5. Check the instructions, which recommend lining the cake tins with greaseproof paper, decide you can't be bothered, and ladle out the mixture into two equal portions...


6. Ask your heavenly father to pop them in the oven, and spend twenty-five minutes relaxing behind the sofa with a multitude of cats...


If you don't have cats, dogs would work just as well. It's also important to pause every five minutes to ask if the cake is cooked yet, while your Dad does the washing up.

7. When cooked and cooled, spread one half of the sandwich with buttercream...


8. Put the other half of the cake on top, and spread with the other half of the icing...


9. Pose for a photo with your cake...


10. Clock the expression of disapproval on your Daddy's face, and decide to pose properly...


11. Serve up the cake to your friends...


If you need more details, you can write in for the fact-sheet. I'll send it out when I've finished stuffing my face.

5 comments:

Phil's Mum said...

...........and then get dressed!  I hope there's still some left when I arrive tomorrow.

Poirot said...

Mary Berry had better watch out.

Peter Chapman said...

Oh My! In the second to last picture Amelie looks just like you Mr Blog Author.

Lisa said...

But we're hoping it won't be a handicap in life.

Phil said...

Are you sure you don't mean the third to last picture?