It’s been a rosaceous family secret for hundreds of years.
Strong men would kill for it. Women would sleep with Donald Trump for it (almost). Hugh Hefner would give his virginity for the chance to eat, but once, of this divine concoction…
BUT I – and Beetle – are going to give it away FOR FREE – no virginities required – on this blog. I mean, how karmic is that!!
This is how it goes. First, take one assistant, approximately eight years old, untutored in the ways of cakes (Beetle tells me she’s never made a cake before, so that fits the bill).
Take one large bowl. Squash into it some banana, half-beaten (but not cowed) egg, sugar and cocoa powder. At this point, as Beetle says rhetorically (I hope),
“How come it looks like something you can eat?”
Yes it does. So both you and the assistant can stick your fingers in and lick them, to check that there’s enough sugar. There isn’t, so chuck some more in. A cake can never have too much sugar in it.
Now tip in some flour. Oops! Beetle comments that the mix looks like ‘that stuff mum puts on to smell nice.’ Uh oh, too much flour – better add some milk.
“Is cake SUPPOSED to have milk in it?”, Beetle asks. Sure – if it’s not wet enough. Please proceed. Ok, NOW it looks wet enough – BUT, oh my god, there is something missing!! Something vital! Something without which this secret cake will be as enticing as banana flavoured cow poo – what is it!
BUTTER! Of course. We forgot. Quick, melt some butter (well it says it’s just like butter and who am I to question Sunnyfarm) and splosh it in. But now…it’s TOO wet.
“Why does it look all eggy?”
Indeed. But the experienced chef sees no problems, only solutions, and so she quickly hoists up the bag of flour and tips a whole lot more in, until the mix has the consistency of a well rotted swamp.
And here comes the essential bit. Sticking your spoons into the swamp, you must now pretend to be an electric mixer. It helps a lot if you make the right noise, as cake mix responds as much to the musical vibrations of the mixer as to the actual mixing action.
There! Perfect! Splat the mix into a cake tin and tip half a packet of pepitas on top, for the truly professional touch.
Now you’re ready to put the cake in the oven, which you’ve carefully set at 20% over the recommended temperature because your oven is 20 years old and leaks a bit. Set the timer to a while, and sit down to scrape the bowl, not forgetting to offer some to the dogs.
DELICIOUS!!! (It was, too). Ten karmic points, I think?