Let’s talk about cake.

Cake is comfort and joy, memories of birthdays and Mummy.

Cake is chocolate and candles, balloons and chips. Pink cake, pretty pink cake, girlie pink frosting with candles flickering on top.

Cake has always been chocolate, or a classic fresh cream pineapple dotted with bright red tinned cherries -that’s what I grew up with. Oh the speckled Black Forest, with tinned cherries and no kirsch.

1980s Bombay, and birthday cakes were chocolate, in all shapes and sizes: a guitar, a numeral, rectangles, squares, a house, a round circle with rosettes. Legends like Mrs. Goraiwala, Desiree and Zia Cama were dazzling children with cakes in all shapes and colours, Tweety Bird to Superman, football fields to circus tents.

If you were in Bombay, you bought your cake at the Club, or from one of these ladies, or the Irani bakery, or the Taj. The Oberoi cake shop gave them all very good competition later on. But I am still talking homemade and customised, before stabilised whipping cream and 70% chocolate. Birthday cakes were much agonised over and anticipated by us all.

The 1990s brought cakes piped in tiny buttercream stars in rainbow colours, dotting everything into the Care Bears and My Magic pony, all American designs. We no longer had classic British floral cakes inspired by Delia Smith or Mary Berry. No more shapes or piping magic, but stand up, stacked cakes and 3D shapes were just making a splash.

Retro made a reappearance and suddenly we found magic in plain pink frosting that made a little girl’s every fairy dream come true. Movies and TV made tall sparklers on tall cakes popular, minimal and Hollywood and glam. Think Sex & the City, think frosted cupcakes with a single candle.

I started this year with baking cakes, after a very long time. I had packed it all away, my hobby, my passion and turned to words and work.

I had quit, unable to focus on the attention to detail, the design elements and the art it called for. I had hastily unpacked all my equipment into the new storage cupboards when we finally moved house, and forgotten where everything had been jigsawed into space.

It was time to unpack the kit, the caboodle and the memories of the making. The muscles were a bit tight, but the memories flowed easily and delightedly. But oh! the joy of finding a favourite spatula, a cherished mini whisk, my metal scraper, my buttercream painting knives, my favourite apron!

I soon felt like a kid in a candy store, playing with my best friend, my beloved Kitchen Aid, also duly dusted for cobwebs, and polished to gleaming. My trusty Kitchen Aid is truly a workhorse and the star of my kitchen. I love it and treasure it.

I started January with some Torta Caprese, the OG Italian way; squidgy, almondy and dense. Perfect with a dark cortada or an espresso. It took me back to that June in Roma, with the hot cobblestones, shady trattorias, neon Aperols and Cinque Centos. I remembered my morning spent at the legendary Caffe Sant’Eustacchio, near the Pantheon, bubbling caffeine and dense chocolate filling my head.

Torta Caprese is Southern Italy, but I haven’t been yet, so I channel my inner Frances Mayes/ Diane Lane on a Vespa in Positano and imagine the peachy Italian sunlight as I nibble on slices of the torta and inhale the aroma of the bitter black in my cup. La vita è bella.

Next up was a birthday cake, with real butterscotch for twelve young boys. A big cake for hungry boys, it had a cavity filled with Mars bars, just as a surprise. The cake was filled with a delish buttercream and a layer of homemade butterscotch ( not caramel) that reminded me of the yellow Quality Street toffee, the flat round one. It was a big yellow cake, sprinkled with gold stars and blue sugar and a tall birthday pennant. It was a hit, devoured and praised, and I was thrilled. I had totally cobbled this one together in my head and ” wung” it in the kitchen, my way. Another Bittersweet triumph. With my Child egging me on when I faltered.

Bittersweet is my baby. Coined after the Big Split when I found myself Suddenly Single at 48, it reflected how I felt about anything happy and celebratory. All those happy moments I had once made cakes for suddenly turned bittersweet in my heart. I tried not to be cynical, jaded, angry. But I was.

Bittersweet is still a happy place for me, where I find joy in making celebrations special for people who order my cakes. People love the flavours I create, the designs I work on, nothing too elaborate or commercial- just solid, homemade cake, with a lot of love and dollops of stardust sprinkled on it. And Sprinkles, Belgian chocolate, French butter, Swiss meringue buttercream, free range eggs: good old-fashioned cake tweaked with some fun techniques and quirky twists to make it oooh-worthy for the social media conscious party people. And to remind you of home and what cake should really taste like.

Next, I made a solid American chocolate fudge and buttermilk sponge birthday cake for a gentleman as a surprise from his American wife, It was dotted with edible pearls, in different sizes. I wasn’t sure about sprinkles or swirls, and wanted the taste to do the talking. The pearls just lent a little elegance to the earthy, thick layers of soft, moist sponge filled with fudgy, chocolate frosting.

Then came the Big Challenge.

My little girl was turning twenty five.

We decided on a tea party. A real party, the first, in our new home. Tea, cake, sandwiches. All our beloved friends and families would be there. All the aunts and uncles and friends.

Simple,right?

Wrong!

She asked for not one but three birthday cakes.

Tall order, as I work retail, full time and long retail hours for a lifestyle brand as their Brand Custodian.

However, her demand was not unreasonable.

She has been through the Big Split too and it had dropped on her birthday, three years ago, forever ruining the day. I had never managed to make her a good cake since, Bittersweet or not. I definitely owed her this time round, and for the past three years.

The list was pretty straightforward:

one moist classic chocolate with strawberries / raspberries or something yummy.

one PRETTY, pweeetttyyy, beeeeooootifoool, piped, tiered cake like on Pintrest ( vintage style, floral,)

one pumpkin spice chai latte cake

(she left out the matcha cake this year)

O.K.

Breathe. I got this, don’t I?

And eventually after much scrolling and hemming and hawwwwing……, I got to work on………… getting organised.

Step 1: making copious lists, poring through old notes, pulling out favourite recipes, searching for newer ones online, watching videos, scouring Pintrest. Spending hours unpacking boxes of books to find more recipe books on cake. ( Procrastination, thy name is cake)

I went through all my favourite recipe books, from Nigella to Ina to Dorie and David; Rachel, Martha, Zoe and Linda. It felt like swotting before the big exam. I had left out Claire, Yotam, Rose and many more.

Step 2: I got more inspired and more and more excited and correspondingly more nervous. And the more creative I got, the more ambitious I became. Piece of cake!

Step 3: Panic! I could only make so much of it in advance. Prep, mise en place, prep-prep-preppity-prep.

Step 4: Buy another fridge?? Serious decision. How would I chill so many cakes and elements especially as winter had taken the week off?

The Child bravely, gamely kept me calm, hid the alcohol and made me coffee. She valiantly went ingredient shopping. She made the white chocolate – pumpkin puree and spice ganache ( yummy). We made the Pumpkin spice chai latte buttercream, and the spiced chai latte sponges in advance and chilled everything. Sponges can be made before. We stayed up late every night and burned the midnight oven. The house smelled of vanilla and butter and sugar.

Step 5: Question my sanity every night.

Next up was the moist, very luscious chocolate sponge. Check. Made and chilled. Another night spent awake.

I made Swiss Meringue Buttercream.
All beautiful and creamy, mixed with raspberry puree to make a beautiful dreamy shade of pink. I climbed up into the store cupboard to open all my Colour Mill to find her the pastel blues and lavenders she craved while my heart was bent on hot pinks and burnt oranges slashed with gold foil.

SOS!!

Panic stations, because I had not made a fully piped cake in a while. OK- ever.

I called Pamz- beloved friend and Wedding Cake Goddess, Pamz Jones.

Pamz had long ago moved from Pune to London to settle down. She has built a stellar reputation for the most exquisite custom wedding cakes, and her company, Lemon Tree Cakes is regularly featured in all the top bridal magazines. She is booked well in advance, and each cake is a unique work of art. Isn’t this lace wedding cake beautiful? She is so exceptionally talented, her work is so incredibly elegant, so tasteful and unique in her designs and colours. Absolutely stunning works of art, every single cake.

I had spent a day under her tutelage two years ago, and she messaged me back, easing all my fears and guiding me step by step and telling me not to worry. Her calm voice cheered me up and I was confident the piping would be just dandy. Like riding a bicycle, except I had only piped garlands once.

D day arrived and I spent the day in a haze of vanilla and buttercream and cold sweat as I systematically prepped and assembled many cakes while delegating everything else to everyone around me.

AH! Murphy decided to visit, of course he did.

I had so many elements to work with:

Swiss Meringue Raspberry Buttercream, Pumpkin White Chocolate Chai Spice Ganache, pumpkin chai spice buttercream, swiss meringue vanilla buttercream, whipped cream, strawberries, and three kinds of sponge in multiple tiers to assemble. Don’t forget I had to bake the chiffon on the same morning, let it cool and slice it after removing it from its special baking tin.

Of course all the buttercreams became too hard and then split- just split. Damage control by heating and re- beating, and wash, and whip, and wash, and whip ( my Kitchen Aid is really the rock) and some heart-stopping moments of re-doing the chiffon when the peaky egg-whites lost their form and turned liquid just before baking (yikes!).

The last day was fraught and I was drained by the end of, unknowing how ill I was with a bug. But survival mode kicked in and all my years of baking helped me, I did not panic. I just kept working and tried not to snap at people. I don’t think I was very good at that. I think I work best alone and in silence. The words, “Move!” and “Behind!” were yelled frequently.

And so cake #2 was finally ready to be made on opening night. It was not quite how I imagined it to be, but it was large and luscious and pink and pretty and vintage. And I had fun making it.

The Child’s cousin from Bombay jumped in to help after the two of them sorted through all the Wilton nozzles and sent me a bunch of videos of what designs I should pipe. ( a few hundred lines of garlands and shells and rosettes and a LOT more buttercream).

We were so close to party time. I kept piping and tried not to get carried away. The climate was cold enough that the SMBC held, not wilting. We juggled the tall, heavy cake in and out of the fridge, chilling between layers and garlands, in and out of the kitchen, over dogs, past Dani setting the flowers and Christina setting the table, Eve and I tried not to panic., and more importantly, not drop the pink behemoth. It made me smile, the cake looked like something from The Grand Budapest Hotel.

My Mother had finely chopped the season’s first strawberries that arrived fresh from Panchgani. We mixed them in whipping cream and the third cake was a marvel: a magnificent classic chiffon sandwiched with strawberries and cream, and so very tea time.

My besties had swooped in, taking over the food and the flowers- my angels. They managed everything while I battled buttercream, whipped the whipping cream, and strategised over cake stands and birthday candles. I sprinkled Pumpkin Chai Spice over fresh marshmallows after assembling the chai latte three tier tall cake.

And finally, it was all ready, all done.

I give you my three birthday cakes.

Resources:

https://www.instagram.com/leflamington. for marshmallows

https://www.instagram.com/lemontreecakesuk/ for exquisite celebration cakes

https://lemon-tree-cakes.co.uk/

https://www.instagram.com/passionateaboutbaking

https://www.instagram.com/stylesweetdaily recipes

https://www.instagram.com/taha_91_khan/ Pastry Chef & Chocolatier, Teacher.

THE GODDESSES of CAKE :

Nigella Lawson, Zoe Francois, Dorie Greenspan, Mary Berry, Martha Stewart, Linda Lomelino, Rachel Allen and Deeba Rajpal.

note: I referenced a lot of cake photos off the internet to show evolving styles and trends over the years, and my memories of cake. Unfortunately I couldn’t find old photos, they seem too damaged and blurred especially the Polaroids ( remember Polaroids?)

But I love, absolutely love cake and the making of. It was my dream to be a pastry chef, ever since I baked my first cake with Mama in our very 1970s cobalt blue formica galley kitchen. I never made the selection for pastry chef school but I learned by myself and took as many classes where I could, notably from Chef Taha and the lovely Pamz Jones. Thank you to my very dear friend Manda and her husband for all the lovely Color Mill. They have helped Bitter Sweet evolve and learn.

And yeah, I am always ready for cake and conversation!