03 Oct 2023
Elena Hogg, founder of local culinary company FOOD by Elena, wonders whether we should be more forgiving of our efforts when it comes to baking cakes for children.
A very good friend reminded me the other day that the start of this year’s Bake Off series is finally here and, as such, marks the point at which Tuesday evening productivity drops to an all-time low as I swap life admin, food prep and household chores for a cuppa, a quilt and a comfy spot on the couch. I don’t think I’m alone in this.
The huge popularity of Bake Off and programmes like it, such as Masterchef or Great British Menu, has had a significant impact on the role food plays in today’s society, I think. Bringing high-end food to primetime viewing exposes us to new levels of culinary sophistication. Is it just me yelling at the screen, “That’s under-baked!” or “Tsk, that raviolo’s going to come open when it hits the boiling water…”.
Yes, competitive culinary programming has made critics of us all. We watch avidly while the consommé is clarified and hold our breath as the fork plunges into the chocolate fondant – will it ooze? Many of us are inspired to give it a go ourselves, and it’s precisely this that has caused a notable rise in the aspirations of the average cook, I would wager.
Cooking courses, too, have increased in both number and variety, and make fabulous gifts: I am the lucky recipient most Christmases of a voucher for a course in bread-baking, brewing or butchery, or something equally fun. I am dabbling with the idea of running my own pasta-making or canapé courses. It’s all part of making accessible what’s deemed specialist.
There’s another side to the coin though. (Isn’t there always?) Take Bake Off, for example. We watch Betty from Burnley, doubtless the most unassuming and sweetly self-deprecating woman on the planet, create an elaborately decorated multi-layered feat of engineering that tastes magnificent to boot and we think to ourselves, well if she can do it, perhaps I should be able to as well.
The pressure descends like some kind of atmospheric event and, even though baking might not be a particular strength, the challenge is set despite the fact that we are spoilt here in St Albans with the plethora of accomplished cake makers to choose from. Indeed, my good friend runs CAKE by Alex and the masterpieces she produces are jaw-dropping. Many people with the right combination of sense, time poverty and ready cash will avail themselves of the services of a professional ‘caker’.
But some of us are more self-flagellating than that. I remember when my first child turned one and we had a party with family and friends to celebrate.
Although I had a lengthy to-do list and hadn’t slept properly for over a year, I made it my mission to produce not just a hedgehog cake, but a FAMILY of hedgehogs to symbolise our own little family. It’s nauseating, really.
As the years went by, the pressure I felt to produce not just homemade but ‘meaningful’ cakes increased to near laser-like intensity. I’d be planning these cakes months in advance, ordering cutters or bizarre tools online. Each cake would represent whatever my children were ‘into’ at the time – a hobby, favourite animal, film or computer game.
There was a Taekwondo cake made in the shape of a Dobok with a fondant belt in the particular colour my son had most recently graded up to. A talented friend of mine made a mini martial artist to go on top. My son’s passion for drumming has also been epitomised in cake form, as has his most recent infatuation with Rubik’s Cubes.
My daughter’s deep love of dragons found its way onto a cake board, as well as the regulation unicorn rainbow cake she asked for one year, and I remember manically informing anyone who’d listen that I’d made my own horn and ears, and not bought them.
By stark contrast to the unicorn theme, my daughter’s cake the following year was a Minecraft one and I remember wanting to pull my fingernails off rather than cut out and affix any more fondant tiles in varying hues of green and brown.
By the end I was sitting in a corner rocking, I think.
Why do I do this to myself? The cakes only end up sliced up and eaten. In fact, possibly not even eaten – how many lumps of napkin-wrapped cake have come home in party bags only to go stale thanks to the more temptingly packaged Haribo or fun-sized Milky Way?
And yet, as this year’s Bake Off begins and I stuff another cushion behind my back, I know that come the next birthday, I’ll be there trying to recreate my child’s favourite Pokémon character and cursing all the amazing contestants who made me feel like I should have a go too. Bake Off has a lot to answer for, namely most of my grey hairs, but I will let Masterchef off the hook.
If it hadn’t been for John and Greg plus the army of brave contestants each year, I would never have become so competitive with myself, or so excited to give the trickier things a go, and I wouldn’t have discovered I was good at it. I threw myself into cookery with all my might and the result is my small but growing business, and I’m actually quite proud, I think. Anyway, pass the remote; it’s starting.
