My son was recently holding forth on a subject in the way that only sweet, hedonistic, clever, eleven year olds can, excitedly describing amusingly absurd ideas about online shopping. He likes to look at Amazon.com and other online shopping sites and understands that books and cd's and toys and electronic gadgets can come into one's life (dramatically appearing at the door!) by tapping certain numbers and things onto the keyboard. We were driving home - he from school, I from work. I smiled, feeling that singular and irreplaceable anticipation for whatever wacky and yet scientific thing he was about to say. He said, "Mama, wouldn't it be cool if when you order something and it came out of the slot on the side of the computer!!!! Hahahaha {snort}" . He then went on to list an increasingly absurd collection of things that we might expect to see doing this, ending with something very large - a fully furnished house I believe. In between his pretty good to downright beautiful singing (Hannah Montana, Xmas Carols, Oldies, Tchaikovsky, Blues and Soul...) there was time to discuss how his day was, how my day was, what activities we had in our plans, and what he wanted to acquire next. When we had exhausted a subject, he'd turn on his talking book machine and we would listen to stories. Anyway, in the "what to acquire next" segment of one recent ride-home talk, this image of things popping out of the side of the computer stayed with me.
At the time, I told him it was reminiscent of Star Trek's transporter - which was way nizza. He agreed. But I later began thinking about cake. I can show pictures of cakes I have made. But they are just pictures. You can't eat them. You can't smell them. You can't follow that dancing roller coaster of actual flavors - floral, herbal, tactual, spicy, oil of cacao, buttery, wheat glutenous spongey dissolving sugary ( or non gluten starchy cohesion), salt and peppery, sweet around the corner of other flavors while swallowing and tasting even more that are involved with actually eating a piece of cake. Not to mention the symphony - if good cake - of thoughts and adrenal activity (compounded by coffee, tea, etc.) that goes with all this flavor. So my son's idea of things coming out of the computer seemed quite plausible, considering some future technology that supports this. But even more, it seemed essential if I wanted to communicate to others all that my cake is....how deep is the ocean, how high the stars?...my cake is where words end.
I think about things like this when I make them, inhaling the fresh aromas and observing the very specific surface tension of bubbles in a solution of sugar, invert sugar, and water while I whip the egg yolks into a foam, while I follow the change of odor as this solution cooks the yolks while they become an emulsion capable of balancing the amazing organic butter, Scotch whiskey, Tahitian vanilla, and perhaps other additions to my French Buttercream. Or when I create a caramel of cream that browns up an edgy flavor just before adding the milk chocolate and vanilla crush to complicate it to the max. Or when I mix that shade grown Bolivian coffee leftover from yesterday's lunch that I find in the pantry Mr.
Coffee maker with King Arthur, sugar, potato starch, chocolates, eggs and some secret ingredients that end in a batter that is on thin ice - about to fall but on a wing and a prayer deliberately thin to gel to the best moistness (Better than that Duncan Hines dude - way way better) that delivers the goods in every bite. Yeah, I think about this. And the future is all you can hope for unless you have me around to bake a cake for you, because for now, my cakes begin where this text leaves off.
