The life of a simple cake
Once upon a time there was a recipe of a dried fruit cake. It was an ordinary recipe for an ordinary cake, nothing creamy, just plain old dough and dried fruits. This recipe had bugged me for some time. I had read it in a magazine and I had decided to try it, so I noted it down on a post-it note and put it in the pocket. It had been a real pain in the but, since I was keeping it in the back pocket of my jeans. For about a week this recipe had been stinging me over and over again.
Finally the day had come for the recipe to see the light of day. So here is a transcript of the note:
250g all purpose flour
150g softened/melted butter
125g brown sugar
3 eggs
1 package (15g) dry yeast
15 dl rum/brandy
100g raisins
50g dry apricot
The dry fruit is chopped and boiled with 10dl rum. When ready, remove from the stove and let it cool.
The softened butter is mixed until creamy. Then add the eggs 1 by 1. Add the dry ingredients. The rum and mix the dough. Add about a spoonful of flour to the dry fruit and mix it thoroughly. Add the fruit to the dough and keep on kneading.
Bake at 210 C about 30 min.
The dough had been all mushy and shapeless. I was almost convinced it won't survive the baking. Reluctantly I added the dry fruit and continued mixing. There was nothing to promise that this cake was going to turn out at least edible if not acceptable. Life for this cake had obviously started in the wrong time or on the wrong foot. Anyway, I put the dough in the baking pan, without any high expectations.
After 30 minutes of facing with destiny that this was it for the cake that it can't do any better I took out the cake from the oven. It smelled nice. However, I dismissed this as a good sign immediately. Ten minutes later I cut the first slice...
It was soft and warm and offering. So we shouldn't judge by initial appearance, I thought. I bit into the slice, it was almost dreamy. Soft as a bed, sweet as a dream. I enjoyed it as much as I had time, but I had to go out and I left my cake on the kitchen table.
The next morning on my way to work I grabbed a bite from my cake. It wasn't that soft but it was still delicious. The day after that I had almost forgotten about the cake. It was still there on the kitchen table. I didn't pay attention to it. A cake is a cake. The day after that the cake was even harder but it still had the taste.
On the fourth day, there was only one slice left. When I looked at it in the morning, it looked as if it was dissatisfied with something. It must have been the lack of caffeine, cakes don't have feelings. So, I pinched it a bit it was dry and it took some time for the tastes to work. Later that day when I got home that slice was still in the pan on the kitchen table. It was dry, almost tasteless, unreachable, miserable. I poured myself a cup of milk and took the last slice, I dipped it in the milk. All of a sudden all the flavours came to life. The softness was back. Unbelievable. It was as if the cake was happy again. As if it had finally been given credit for something.
Finally the day had come for the recipe to see the light of day. So here is a transcript of the note:
250g all purpose flour
150g softened/melted butter
125g brown sugar
3 eggs
1 package (15g) dry yeast
15 dl rum/brandy
100g raisins
50g dry apricot
The dry fruit is chopped and boiled with 10dl rum. When ready, remove from the stove and let it cool.
The softened butter is mixed until creamy. Then add the eggs 1 by 1. Add the dry ingredients. The rum and mix the dough. Add about a spoonful of flour to the dry fruit and mix it thoroughly. Add the fruit to the dough and keep on kneading.
Bake at 210 C about 30 min.
The dough had been all mushy and shapeless. I was almost convinced it won't survive the baking. Reluctantly I added the dry fruit and continued mixing. There was nothing to promise that this cake was going to turn out at least edible if not acceptable. Life for this cake had obviously started in the wrong time or on the wrong foot. Anyway, I put the dough in the baking pan, without any high expectations.
After 30 minutes of facing with destiny that this was it for the cake that it can't do any better I took out the cake from the oven. It smelled nice. However, I dismissed this as a good sign immediately. Ten minutes later I cut the first slice...
It was soft and warm and offering. So we shouldn't judge by initial appearance, I thought. I bit into the slice, it was almost dreamy. Soft as a bed, sweet as a dream. I enjoyed it as much as I had time, but I had to go out and I left my cake on the kitchen table.
The next morning on my way to work I grabbed a bite from my cake. It wasn't that soft but it was still delicious. The day after that I had almost forgotten about the cake. It was still there on the kitchen table. I didn't pay attention to it. A cake is a cake. The day after that the cake was even harder but it still had the taste.
On the fourth day, there was only one slice left. When I looked at it in the morning, it looked as if it was dissatisfied with something. It must have been the lack of caffeine, cakes don't have feelings. So, I pinched it a bit it was dry and it took some time for the tastes to work. Later that day when I got home that slice was still in the pan on the kitchen table. It was dry, almost tasteless, unreachable, miserable. I poured myself a cup of milk and took the last slice, I dipped it in the milk. All of a sudden all the flavours came to life. The softness was back. Unbelievable. It was as if the cake was happy again. As if it had finally been given credit for something.
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