In time honoured fashion and on the eve of a family birthday we head on down to the local supermarket and the expectant celebrant gets to choose their own cake from the either well stocked or otherwise embarrassingly sparse display unit in the bakery aisle.
In the case of the former stock situation I can only presume that 9 months prior there was little thought or prospect of procreation amongst our local resident population. In the latter sold out scenario I can only attribute this to a baby boom brought on by unseasonably cold weather, a cheap beer promotion in the towns pubs or one of our National sports teams nearly acheiving something momentous enough to arouse the passions and enthusiasms of prospective parents.
There is, on average, a good choice to be had and appealing to the full age range of our particular family unit.
The wife is taken by the Thorntons branded assemblage of possibly sweepings up of chocolates and misshapes pushed hard, by potentially ungloved hands, into a sponge base and then lightly dusted with what looks like icing sugar but could as easily be something dermatologically derived.
I am a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to confectionery based cakes and play it safe with a white topping carrot based product or a classic hard icing cake, you know the multi purpose type that can be adapted for births, marriages or deaths simply by the calibre and food coloured tincture of the piped detail.
The children, again all now over 18 , have in the past opted for the cake of the moment and we have therefore had over the years various creations endorsed by the Disney Corporation, Pixar and Dreamworks.
These are an example of outrageous exploitation and profiteering in that the only attempt at customising a bog standard light and aneamic sponge is with a thin icing patch invariably overprinted in high E numbered food colourings with a character from Walt's studio or the images and persona of Buzz Lightyear or some bulbous and strangely flourescent green ants. The product is glorified with a wrap around cardboard sheath and a clear fronted box which promises much but delivers little.
Other favourites and of escalating cost from the parental hint at £6.99 to the bank busting £9.99 have borne the terrifying face of Darth Maul or a menacing Lord Vader, Jacqueline Smith's dysfunctional teenager stars featured in her book series and more shameless marketing by the Top Gear Franchise.
With the icing off and a finger swipe around the join of the sponges accounting for the jam and cream content there is not much to write a thank you note about.
The cake baking industry is however very active and a specialist shop in the town square caters for bespoke orders for every conceivable function. I nearly fell into the window display after curiously reading the price tag of £60 for a gawdy multi tiered birthday cake for possibly a toddler but sporting the rather antiquated name of Mason. That structure would feature, no doubt, prominently in the family album of Mason's early years as an expression of the love of his parents although I suspect it to be an early apology for many,many years of future bullying on account of a pretentious and frankly, bland and inane name.
Anyway, for my 50th yesterday I was not driven down to Sainsburys bakery section but instead I was presented with a tremendous home made cake which had been devised and assembled by my offspring.
The imperial ten inch diameter dual sponges appear to be floating on a generous, fluid based layer of bonding preservative of the strawberry persuasion. The icing on the top and extruded down the sides is a bright and inviting lemon. The central plateau, showing no signs of the Mary Berry curse of subsidence from the cooking process, is carefully pebble dashed with hundreds and thousands, in fact hundreds and thousands of them. They are coralled by a necklace effect of large blue and pink fizzy bottles . There should have been nine of them but I admit now to stumbling across the Pick and Mix Bag the evening before and carefully lifting out two of them to eat before bedtime.
The remaining seven did well to surround the centrepiece which was a number 50 made out of liquorice sections.
The cross section is well worthy of first prize in any Great British Bake Off. Dense but moist sponge, a nice consistent colour and more hidden seams of rich fruity jam.
I blew out all of the candles in one go. Not I might add a conflagration and eyebrow scorching half a ton of flaming wax but just the words Happy Birthday in a very fast melting material.
I mistook the molten drops of residue as multi coloured sherbert pips but my, on such a magnificent cake everything was eminently edible.
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