Cake Engineering

There is a very good reason why Engineers should remain Engineers and not venture into other trades.

A couple of weeks ago, I got it in my head that I should give baking a try. So, while out shopping for groceries, I picked up a couple of ingredients and a can of peach topping. It clearly said "topping" on the can but being the clever bloke (Engineer) I am, I decided that it should sit in between the cake - like a center filling. Simple enough - or so I thought.

So, here's how it went this evening.

Step One : Mixed the batter and then whisk for about 2 minutes.

Step Two : Pour into baking tins. I used two (splitting the batter equally) because of my ingenious plan to have the peach "topping" in between - much like a peach burger.

Step Three : In the oven they go. 165 degrees celsius for about 35 minutes.

Step Four : After 45 minutes (I was watching "The Day After Tomorrow" on TV and missed the beeping oven), the two sponge like vanilla cakes came out. Looks good?

Step Five : Here's where it all goes horribly wrong - just like the massive weather disaster unfolding on the tele. The cakes were "freed" from their tin prison and left to cool. I then flipped one around so that I'd have the flat side to spread the peach topping (or should I say peach "centering") on. Here's the "peached" side.

Step Six : When the peach center was done, the next logical step is to put on the top. UFO or flying saucer jokes at this point will not be appreciated! *wink*

Step Seven : Here's where the word "horrible" comes into play. I thought, like cement, I could get the two cakes to become one with frosting. So, I piled it on. The top turned out messy but the sides... the frosting just slid off! When I stood back to 'admire' my work, it looked like someone with a bad case of the flu sneezed his lungs out over it!

Step Eight : Behind every unsuccessful baker, there's a supportive wife. My wife tried her very best to even out the mess I created and then popped it in the fridge.

Step Nine : The final product. After about an hour in the fridge, my wife decided that she would risk it and try. I tried to dissuade her but she cut two pieces, one for me. She promptly took a bite. I didn't have her guts (and literally too) but tried it anyway. It turned out ok. My wife said so too!


Oh, credit also has to go out to two lovely ladies. My wife, of course, who helped line the baking tins with grease paper and with the 'rescue mission' and a new friend my wife introduced me to at the Supermarket. Her name is Betty - Betty Crocker, that is.


So there it is - my foray into baking. After we finished our slice of cake, I told my wife "if I ever suggest that I bake a cake again, please feel free to give me a slap".