A baking story told in 8 parts. Part I

Being asked to do something, there’s little chance I’ll say no (things I’ve said no to in the past: chugging a container of raw eggs, meeting Paris Hilton, dating a cheesemaker).

So when I was asked if I’d like to participate in a bake-off at The Drake, I said yes.

Problem is, I don’t bake.

I don’t have a sweet tooth either, so I don’t know what most stuff is supposed to taste like. As a restaurant reviewer, I have tasted thousands (yes, thousands) and even finished them with delight (I wish pastry chefs got more acclaim at their restaurants), but my ideal dessert is honestly meat, vegetables, salad, pickles or anything salty.

So naturally my anxiety levels were off the charts. How the hell was I going to do this? I have been cooking for over two decades and had only baked about 10 times up until now – and  always with near to disastrous results (the Pecan Pie of May ’10) and most certainly, teary eyes and a promise to never bake again.

Cooking both relaxes and challenges me, while baking confuses and frustrates me. It’s perfection food, of which mine is most certainly not.

So I said yes, thinking that there would be hundreds of people asked to compete and that I could blend into the back of the crowd with my scorched pies or hardened bars. And there’s nothing I like more than meeting new people who want to talk food in excruciating detail, so absolutely I will make a fool of myself and enter a baking competition.

The bake-off was based around a new cookbook, Bourke Street Bakery: The Ultimate Baking Companion, from a famous bakery in Australia.

Make a recipe from it, I was instructed. Make a test batch and write and tweet about it. Then make 50 – 60 individual servings for competition night.

Huh.

Pretty intimidating, but okay. I’ll just make really easy chocolate chip cookies. That way, I can’t really screw up and it won’t take over my life.

The book arrived and while beautiful, it contained only recipes I left to my talented sweet-toothed friends, like Diana who makes chocolate soufflé and hand-crafted ice cream.  I quickly passed over the big bread section at the front that goes until page 143. I can’t even handle premade pizza dough, never mind Baguettes, Brioche and Potato Schiacciata. The pastries section freaked me out even more – Croissants? Bear Claws?

#*@!

Now what?

I combed through the thing 3 times and the simplest recipe I could find was Financiers with Strawberries (page 322).

These little almond cakes – also known as friands – were pretty complicated, as far as I was concerned. Ground almonds, fruit topping? That was already too much to contemplate.

And this is all before starting to shop or cook.

Oh Lord.