Cake

The last time I bought a cake mix was probably somewhere in the mid-Seventies when I was a young mother desperate for time.  I still haven't bought a cake mix, but one did come in a foodie show bag we bought at the Sydney Easter Show.  There it sat among some questionable packets of such tempting dishes as fried noodles, Blue Dragon stir fry sauce, roasted seaweed yakinori (premium no less), and my all-time favourite, Mumbai mushrooms and potatoes stir fried with onions and tomatoes.  Maybe they will sit in the cupboard until they pass their use by date and I can hurl them with a clear conscience.

But the cake mix was different.  It was the creation of Adriano Zumbo, the Pavarotti of the pâtissier world.  With a birthday on the horizon, I decided to take a chance with this packet cake.

Oh my goodness.  Let me preface this by declaring that I have never met the man, nor is this a paid commercial, but I think I am in love with Adriano.

This is no ordinary cake mix.  This is chocolate heaven on earth, albeit with a heart attack waiting in the wings.  There is real chocolate inside this box.  You add three eggs and way too much butter than is good for you.  You bake it slowly in a bain-marie.  When it is cool you smother it in a chocolate glaze. It is an extremely dense and gooey cake, but so light that you don't feel guilty eating it.  Mr Fudge was mighty impressed with his birthday cake, but more was to come.

Last night we had dinner with the Young Fudges and knowing that Grandad was a steam train buff, they persuaded their mother to help them make him a cake that he would remember always.  Well, it was a huge success and there was even enough for us to take home for the next day.

On the drive home it morphed into the Scary Cake Monster.  But not quite scary enough not to be eaten with gusto.  And a cup of coffee.