I’m blaming the beautiful Becky over at Sarcastic Quilter if this all goes pear shaped. Earlier this week she mentioned the website of Bakerella on her blog and I have spent hours poring over the website and more hours subsequently sending Becky death threats for posting the link. Like I need cake. I'm already the shape of a wine barrel with a head. Like I need the stress of feeling completely inadequate because I could NEVER make something so fabulously gorgeously pretty. Case in point: I’m sure you’ve all read my post about the flying ho ho cake.
The sad truth is I consider myself to be baking challenged. And while it’s mildly irritated me over the years, I always consoled myself with the idea that I was a “career woman” and that I “sew” and “quilt” and that I didn’t need to be able to bake fabulous cakes to be a whole human being. My sister on the other hand is a whiz at cake baking and scones in particular. Plus she’s thin. I pretty much hate her as much as I dislike Bakerella.
I did make a Dora birthday cake for Miss Pyjamas birthday one year. Dora looks seriously pissed off rather than smiley. This chick isn’t about to whip out a Spanish phrase book, she’s about to grab an Uzi from that overstuffed backpack of hers.
I didn’t do chemistry in high school, so for me there is something in the equation of flour + eggs+ milk that = glue. It doesn’t matter how carefully I measure or follow the instructions. My blog buddy Leslie from A Clever Title Goes Here asserts that cooking and baking are the same thing. As much as I respect many of Leslie’s opinions, I beg to differ. I’ve never killed anyone with my rendang curry for example.
Usually when I bake, the family pretend enthusiasm, it sits in the kitchen growing mould on a pretty cake plate and 3 days later I feed it to the dogs, who will eat pretty much anything. Indy and Lola rock at helping me dispose of the evidence of my baking misdeeds.
Once I got over my Must Kill Becky For Posting phase… and got rational and sane again I decided maybe I’m not crap at baking. Maybe I just need to practice to develop confidence. Maybe I have wonky measuring cups from a land where ½ a cup is really a whole Australian cup. Maybe my oven isn’t possessed by evil baking spirits.
I’m pre-warning Blog-dom that I intend to bake a cake this weekend. I’m pretty sure I can throw some eggs and flour and other mysterious ingredients into a bowl and transform them into something that doesn’t resemble a pancake and is edible. And if I can't - I'm hopping the first plane to America to kick Bakerella's arse.
This time it’s personal.