|My echidna, who has a very long nose|
|the original from The Book|
Ta da! Ladies and gentlemen, here is the first cake of 2013.
And the twist to the story is that it's not a cake per se, it's actually ice cream cleverly disguised as cake. So not only is it the first cake of 2013, it's my first ice cream cake EVER.
I was hoping for a scorcher of a day today so that we could all really enjoy the cold creamy goodness of the cake here in my office, but to be honest it doesn't matter that it's only 19 degrees. This baby was out of the freezer for all of around six minutes before not a skerrick was left to be seen. And that's really what you want for a cake, isn't it?
I made this for a colleague's birthday, so there were some logistic difficulties to overcome. Because how would I get the cake from my house to the office without a disaster? And not just that, but how would it ever survive an hour in the boot of my car while I run around and jump up and down during my exercise class before work? I mean, I'm clever, but even my epic cake making skillz (and yes that "z" indicates my tongue is firmly in my cheek) cannot prevent an ice cream cake from melting. I am many things, but I am not God.
So I came into the office yesterday and made it here. Voila, problem solved.
If you'd like to replicate my experience, here are the steps you need to follow.
- Go to Coles at 730am on a Sunday and buy lots of chocolate chip icecream, ice magic, malt biscuits, smarties, a chocolate swiss roll, and camphor balls.
- Receive strange look from the checkout chap. Was it because I was buying ice cream at 730am, or the camphor balls? We may never know.
- Zoom down Hoddle St and arrive at work ten minutes later. This is some kind of record. Normally it takes half an hour at the minimum. Congratulate yourself.
- Plonk everything on the kitchen counter and wait for your icecream to soften.
- Settle down to hand stitch the binding on your latest quilt, while ice cream is softening. Curse when you realise you've forgotten the thread you need. Sew the button eyes onto your owl softies instead.
- Five minutes later when all eyes are sewn on, curse again. Search in vain for something to read.
- One hour and many website visits later, spoon all your icecream into a pudding steamer lined with gladwrap. Return to freezer.
- Curse when you realise you've forgotten the baking paper and aluminium foil needed for the next step.
- Head up the road to the shop. Buy baking paper and deodorant and oooh look, raspberries on special.
- Traipse back to the office and remember THE BLOODY ALUMINIUM FOIL.
- Skip that step.
- After another hour, get the icecream out of the freezer and flip it out of the pudding steamer. Working quickly, jam in lots of biscuits to make the spikes.
- Trim your chocolate swiss roll to look like a nose, position it on the icecream body, and then douse in ice magic. Ice magic! When was the last time you had ice magic?
- Return to freezer.
- One hour later, check for firmness and realise it's still soft because the freezer is at its highest temperature setting. Sweat a few bullets worrying. Then turn the temperature down.
- Leave the office, crossing your arms, legs, fingers, and eyes in the hope that it sets well and does not turn into a big melty puddle in the freezer.
And there you have it - one ice cream echidna.
Oh, the camphor balls? Totally unrelated. You don't need to buy them after all.