“Chocolate cake? Dude, don’t you read my blog?” I like to bring up my blog in any conversation possible. I even try to talk about cooking, so that I can sneak in my blog’s name.
“That’s because you are mad. You never follow any recipe and expect everything to be perfect?” asked my husband. He already had placed all the ingredients on the counter and was chopping walnuts. He even managed to get the measuring cups and a hand blender which I never knew existed in the house.
He read the one page recipe twice. He double checked if he had all the ingredients. He had this look on his face. Like all those bad actors that play doctors. They all have the same serious look when they come out of operating theatre, even if the patient has survived. May be, this is one of the many things I lack – intensity, I wondered.
“We need two bowls, one for the dry ingredients, one for the wet ingredients.” He put flour, baking powder, cocoa powder in a bowl. They were all carefully measured, in tune with the sacred recipe.
“You need to sieve the dry ingredients. Otherwise there will be lumps. They showed that in Masterclass. ”
“But it’s not mentioned in the recipe.”
May be, the person who wrote the recipe is not into Masterchef, I thought. He took out another bowl and added the butter. He blended the butter for a good five minutes. Then added the eggs and sugar, again blended it for another 3-4 minutes. I thought it was a bit much. He did all the work .So, I decided to remain silent. I imagined eating the cake that was in the picture next to the recipe to distract myself. I did not stop there. I also imagined hot chocolate sauce, cold ice cream, and warm walnut chocolate cake.
To the blended mix, he added the dry ingredients, milk, and walnuts. He folded the mix and poured it into a square glass container. Then he went back to the recipe to check with the oven settings.
“What does preheating the oven mean?”
“What do I know? Isn’t it in the recipe?”
“Why would I ask you if it was there?”
“We can’t let the batter sit for that long.”
“Did they teach that in Master class?”
“No, I am using my brain.”
“Ah, then it is okay to let the batter sit.”
After discussing for a few minutes, we decided to skip preheating of the oven. Later, I realized that was exactly the type of crisis for which Google was designed. And that’s exactly when we don’t use it. We kept the glass container with the batter in the oven at 180 degree C for 15 minutes. I took out a toothpick and kept it next to the oven. “The cake will be cooked if the toothpick comes out clear”, I told my husband.
We both were so overwhelmed in the kitchen; we went to watch TV while the cake baked. We completely forgot about the cake for 10 minutes. Then my image of cake, sauce, and ice cream returned. “I will go watch the cake batter rise”, I said. I went into the kitchen and realized that there can be smoke without fire. I switched off the oven and took out the glass container. Within ten minutes, the cake batter had become black hard rock.
“I guess we don’t need the toothpick.” my husband said.
“You obviously over worked the butter. It caused the eggs to curdle …”
“Stop watching so much of Masterchef, ya!”
“We both don’t know anything about baking.”
Method meets madness – alliteration?
Dude? You miss college, don’t you?
Comparing your husband to bad actors might lead to dangerous consequences.
Ah, screw the consequences, madness wins!
PS: Husband made the cake again and it did turn out well.