Of Cakes and Wise Bites

I baked a cake this evening. For the first time. EVER. I baked a caked today for the first time EVER in my life. Walnut & Cranberry Cake. And I'm thrilled to bits.

I also happened to write a poem on cake this morning. On the Mishti Doi Cheesecake I make. Yes, this one's a frozen cake while the other's a baked goodie, but still, it's got the word 'cake' in it. So there. Coincidence. Prophetic. Or plain, simple can't-get-cake-out-of-my-mind-itis.

Funny time to be baking a cake for the first time, actually. Or rather, the worst possible time. I'm up to my eyeballs in work and am getting by on 3-4 hours of sleep for the past two weeks. I am busy trying to devote every single moment I have to work, but the distractions are many, many, oh-so-many and I'm not the most easily focused of people, so the last place I needed to be was in the kitchen. I should have been working. That guilt is going to eat me up for a good four or maybe even five hours! Sigh...

Well, whatever it was, I baked a cake.

The reason I'm so excited is because I've always wanted to bake. Ever since I discovered the joys of cooking I knew that I would one day bake too. I'd fantasize about baking the best chocolate chip cookies for my boys. I did experiment with a few biscuit and bread recipes and they turned out fine, but for some strange reason, I never got hooked...even though the dream remained. And these past few years, I've been so busy with chicken, prawns, mutton and frozen desserts, that I just never got around to making those chocolate chip cookies.

But now the time has come. Soon enough. For today, I baked a cake.

And I was nervous about it. Very nervous about it.

As usual, whenever I potter about the kitchen, the boys hover about, especially the EO. Bong and foodie that he is, he's always around, asking questions, tasting things, offering to help, offering to help taste things...you know.

Needless to say, the boys and The Niece were very excited about the cake. They kept checking up on it as much as I did.

When it was finally time to take it out, the EO happened to be the only one in the kitchen with me. He was excited. I was nervous. And I said so. Out loud. At least a few times. Out loud.

And that's when I get gobsmacked. My EO, my eight-year-old, little boy said to me soothingly, "Don't be nervous Mamma. There's nothing to be nervous about. Just think that you've done this 200 times before and that's it. Ok?"

When did he grow to be so wise? So mature? My little mash-up of a Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews, was spouting wisdom far beyond his years and it brought tears to my eyes.

And then, when I give him the first bite, he closes his eyes, lets it tease his tastebuds and says, "You've got magic in your hands."

Sigh...some girl is really going to be lucky to get him.