I have always loved baking. The creation of something new from individual ingredients in a short amount of time is the perfect art for a "scanner" that flits from one project to another at a dizzying speed. Even as a raw foodie, I still bake for friends and family. Depending on your view, this is an act of benevolence, or "poisoning" the neighbourhood with refined sugar and wheat.
Today is dad’s birthday and I use this as an excuse to bake a carrot cake and give it away. At the same time I save some grated carrot for a couple of raw carrot muffins for our supper. My oven is an thin aluminium box sitting atop a kerosene flame. "Beware the black shit" is the motto when baking with this archaic contraption. The kero flame coats every surface with a filthy black soot, no doubt infusing into the cooked goodies. It has served me well over the years, and I have learnt to adjust cooking times and choose suitable recipes, as the maximum temperature at full blast is around 180 degrees. No scones or soufflés.
I pull out the cotton wicks with tweezers, trim the ends to encourage a cleaner flame, and set the oven up out of the wind. Sift, mix, stir, then into the black box. Doesn’t seem very hot… Three hours later, the batter is partly congealed and the oven has run out of kero. I think there is a hidden message in this baking experience.
Sorry dad, the pigs got your cake.
Today is dad’s birthday and I use this as an excuse to bake a carrot cake and give it away. At the same time I save some grated carrot for a couple of raw carrot muffins for our supper. My oven is an thin aluminium box sitting atop a kerosene flame. "Beware the black shit" is the motto when baking with this archaic contraption. The kero flame coats every surface with a filthy black soot, no doubt infusing into the cooked goodies. It has served me well over the years, and I have learnt to adjust cooking times and choose suitable recipes, as the maximum temperature at full blast is around 180 degrees. No scones or soufflés.
I pull out the cotton wicks with tweezers, trim the ends to encourage a cleaner flame, and set the oven up out of the wind. Sift, mix, stir, then into the black box. Doesn’t seem very hot… Three hours later, the batter is partly congealed and the oven has run out of kero. I think there is a hidden message in this baking experience.
Sorry dad, the pigs got your cake.
I have tasted magic from that oven.
ReplyDeleteBad pigs.