It’s my birthday so being indulgent, it’s all about cake darling!
I like cake. It’s not hard to grasp, figuratively nor literally. Unless it’s a five storied monster, of course. Then a spoon works best.
Cake is all day food. Lemon for breakfast. Coffee & walnut at elevenses; something iced at lunch & chocolate for tea.
Cake doesn’t mend broken hearts – but it tries its best.
Sponge. That’s an odd word. Shouldn’t it be spunge? No, mabe not, let’s stick with sponge.
Artic Roll. Now that’s a retro treat. A trashy, flashy, 70’s flashback. Cool. And best served cool.
a Victorian Sponge is majestic. Two layers, thick strawberry jam, & cream. Gently, generously dusted, with icing sugar on top. Yum Yum (I can feel my teeth start to rot…)
Now, there is something wrong with cakes containing mixed fruit. Dead Fly Pie. Spotted Dick – they sound wrong. They look strange, in a bad way. Steer clear, at all costs!
Tarts! Oh I love a tart. Raspberry jam or a nice lemon curd. How British, with a pot of tea.
Custard or cream? Ice-cream? Oh the dilemma of what to pour over the cake. Or leave it naked – maybe that’s best.