Some things are difficult to say, such as, “The Australian Women’s Weekly Children’s Birthday Cake Book.” Growing up, it was just, “the cake book,” which is a far less complex collection of syllables. But MM doesn’t always know what I’m referring to, so I have to use its full title and sometimes add, “The one with the train cake on the cover.” I knew I was worn out the other night when I referred to it as, “The Australia Women’s Keithly Workday Cake Book.” Now I wish workday cakes were a thing. How much better would offices be if there was workday cake in the kitchen after meetings?
The cake book is nothing if not a web of complexity. As I’ve already demonstrated, it’s has a complex title. It is filled with complex recipes that involve intricate decoration. And the question of which cake in the book is best isn’t answered easily. When discussing the cake book, it isn’t long before an argument breaks out over which cake is the best. There are lots of advocates for the train cake. The train cake is ok, but the popcorn in the carriage gets soggy if the cake is prepared too far in advance. Plus, how lazy do you have to be to not even look beyond the cover?
The castle cake boasts an ardent following. These people tend to be the type that prefer style over substance because, again, soggy ice cream cones if the cake has to be left. This is also a prime cake for collapsibility.
The weirdest cakes in that book are:
– the duck with chips for a beak. Why? Why would you do that to a cake? What did cake ever do to you?
– the ghost with eggshells for eyes. Egg shells. The discarded shell of an egg. Even the rubbish truck cake isn’t adorned with real rubbish.
Obviously, most people are wrong about which cake is best. It is clearly the bear with the wagon wheel biscuits for ears, because you get
- chocolate icing
- chocolate coconut
- two chocolate cakes iced into one
- wagon wheel biscuits
- a Rolo for the nose
No other cakes in that book offer this kind of chocolatey bounty. It is the best cake.
By the way, my mum never made the cake pools full of jelly because she said they were too tricky. I now know lots of people who only got the pool cake because their mum thought it was easy. Can we come to a consensus? Should I just make one and see for myself?
Anyway, the discussion involving our hero, Keithly Workday, was just a roundabout way of discussing Rolos. They only appear to be sold in family-size blocks now. I was really after the sleeve of little caramel-chocolate morsels because they are exactly the correct proportion of caramel to chocolate. I’m hesitant to go on an earnest hunt for a sleeve of Rolos, in case I discover once and for all that they don’t exist.
The catalyst for my Rolo desire was a cup of Jade Mountain tea I’d had earlier in the day. As I’ve said in the past, I’m not sure I like green tea, but I never baulk at a cup of Jade Mountain. It has a classic green tea taste, but every mouthful is a wonderful complexity of flavours. It has a combination of chocolate and caramel flavours, perfectly proportioned. It also has salty popcorn notes, and a little fruity tone splashed in for good measure: apple, apricot, fig. It’s vanilla, brown sugar, and creamy, and seemingly more complex with every mouthful.
In fact, Jade Mountain reminds me of the complexity of a custard apple. If you just hook into the thing it’s easy to assume it just tastes like custard and apple. But a custard apple is so much more than that. It’s smokey and has maple notes. You can taste woody flavours, fig, and citrus. It’s an adventure in a tropical skin.
A cup of Jade Mountain is like a showcase of everything a cup of tea is capable of. It’s like seeing acrobats prove the extremes of the human body’s ability, viewing an intricate painting, or hearing a stirring piece of poetry. Just as you can’t help but be in awe of the possibilities of nature as you stand in the shadow of a mighty mountain, you will scarcely be able to help contain your awe of a cup of Jade Mountain.
Jade Mountain: 5/5
Enjoy with: Keithly Workday, and a slice of cake.