I am not, it has to be said, much of a domestic goddess.
And for 363 days of the year this works to my advantage. I can live up to people's low expectations, basking in the warm glow of accomplishment. However, my peace of mind unravels two days every year — my children's birthdays.
Suddenly I'm expected to separate egg whites, beat things to dropping consistency, crimp, cream and caramelize with innate skill and savoir-faire. Only last night, on Masterchefs, The Professionals did I learn that pastry was a DISCIPLINE, and one that had to be undertaken SERIOUSLY. Michel Roux said it with such soft-spoken gravity that my jaw fell open in awe.
What a stupid
Blundering through life thinking tae kwon do was a discipline, karate, that thing with the sticks, even water-boarding at a push — but PASTRY?! Look at it the wrong way and that choux bun could KILL you. And we're not talking clogged arteries here. We're talking a sucker punch to the Adam's apple that you won't even hear coming.
In the world of Twitter this morning a distress call went up. Poor @audreysluyter. She has a birthday looming, her son's. She has courageously decided to attempt a cake in the shape of a train. Now, I'm guessing from her tone of desperation that @audreysluyter is no Jane or Nigella. In fact, I'm guessing she's exactly like me, with wooden spoon and Magimix lying snug and warm under a thick pelt of dust.
Not for me the competitive, bun-eat-bun world of architectural kiddy cake baking. I know someone who genuinely believes she's a superior breed of mother because she insists on creating fairy palaces, and 100 Aker Woods, and High Street Musical tableaux out of an organic Victoria sponge and half-a-dozen mini-rolls for her predictably bored and ungrateful offspring.
But of course she's not superior — between you and me, she's on medication for a personality disorder — but she is desperate to get one over on the rest of us. She's a closet Alpha mum who exercises her frustrated lack of status through passive-aggressive baking.
Is this the sort of club you want to belong to? No. So when your child's birthday rolls around, do what I do. Bake a sponge, cover it with icing, then smother it with sweets containing a sugar-to-E number ratio high enough to cause temporary blindness.
Your kids will love you for it!
Suddenly I'm expected to separate egg whites, beat things to dropping consistency, crimp, cream and caramelize with innate skill and savoir-faire. Only last night, on Masterchefs, The Professionals did I learn that pastry was a DISCIPLINE, and one that had to be undertaken SERIOUSLY. Michel Roux said it with such soft-spoken gravity that my jaw fell open in awe.
What a stupid
I've been!
Blundering through life thinking tae kwon do was a discipline, karate, that thing with the sticks, even water-boarding at a push — but PASTRY?! Look at it the wrong way and that choux bun could KILL you. And we're not talking clogged arteries here. We're talking a sucker punch to the Adam's apple that you won't even hear coming.
In the world of Twitter this morning a distress call went up. Poor @audreysluyter. She has a birthday looming, her son's. She has courageously decided to attempt a cake in the shape of a train. Now, I'm guessing from her tone of desperation that @audreysluyter is no Jane or Nigella. In fact, I'm guessing she's exactly like me, with wooden spoon and Magimix lying snug and warm under a thick pelt of dust.
Not for me the competitive, bun-eat-bun world of architectural kiddy cake baking. I know someone who genuinely believes she's a superior breed of mother because she insists on creating fairy palaces, and 100 Aker Woods, and High Street Musical tableaux out of an organic Victoria sponge and half-a-dozen mini-rolls for her predictably bored and ungrateful offspring.
But of course she's not superior — between you and me, she's on medication for a personality disorder — but she is desperate to get one over on the rest of us. She's a closet Alpha mum who exercises her frustrated lack of status through passive-aggressive baking.
Is this the sort of club you want to belong to? No. So when your child's birthday rolls around, do what I do. Bake a sponge, cover it with icing, then smother it with sweets containing a sugar-to-E number ratio high enough to cause temporary blindness.
Your kids will love you for it!
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2 comments:
Not much of a domestic goddess and yet you weigh out ingredients to concoct birthday cakes from scratch! Haven't you heard of Sainsbury's traybake chocolate cakes? I think you underestimate your talents...
Dear Don't I Know You
Who said anything about weighing? If the mixture looks like something I can grout with then it's good to go!
Chastity x
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