Culinary Tales: The cake that never was

I hunted for my mom’s recipe book and found the chocolate cake recipe that was meticulously written. I sent my nanny to buy all that my chocolate cake would require from my pocket money. I arranged the table, put on her apron and started putting all the ingredients one by one. It was time to use the electric hand mixer. All that I saw in the next few seconds was flakes and flakes of the mixer, above my eyes, on my nose. I didn’t give up. 

Licking the bits around my mouth, I gathered the rest and put it in an oven. We had the traditional baking ovens that time. After some time, I put in the fork to check the baking levels. It needed just a little more time. I closed the lid and relaxed. The air was filled with that characteristic fragrance and a sense of accomplishment. 

A few minutes later I had rude shock. My cake had become hard as a rock. I was heartbroken. But my nanny, a witness to the whole process, took the cake and started banging it on the marble slab. This act literally had me burst me into laughter. 

I knew my cake hadn’t come out well, but it created a wonderful memory to be shared years after. My mother was back and I had by then bought a small cake from nearby store and kept a jar of my cake crumbs as her gift on the table as well.

The rest of the family members had the cake from the shop but my mother and nanny loved my ‘would have been cake’ bits. Of course, today,I’m a better cook. I love to make Bengali and Chinese dishes and have my friends and family waiting for dishes cooked by me during gatherings.