Defy the internet’s beauty standards and bake the cake yourself
One thousand three hundred and eighty seven cakes showed up to the recent Cake Picnic in San Francisco. I’ve never before seen such a beautiful scene - putting my friends Sofia, Wes and Spike to shame. I’m somewhat devastated that I only get to see it through this measly screen… emotional, even, as I scroll through some-20 of the cakes presented. These are sweet, sweet masterpieces. The detail! The care! The pride of place. Cake is nothing but a vehicle to bring people together. Seeing them en masse like that feels like a beacon of hope. A rebellion, even. Do you feel it too? I just hope all that buttercream didn’t melt in the sun.
I’ve recently been sifting - pun not intended - through my grandma’s recipes from the ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s, and I can’t help but wonder how current day beauty standards have objectified cake. I’ll acknowledge my privilege here - I’ve benefitted from the system as a side-hustle baker - but there’s real pressure for celebrations of all kinds to feature a professional edible centrepiece (the current trend asks cakes to double as a floral arrangements or fruit baskets).
For as long as I can remember, the highlight of my birthday each year was baking a cake (often in the shape of a butterfly, with smarties on it) for my friends and family to enjoy. Initially, as sous to the matriarch, before I would oust them for head baker (I’m that Jeremy Allen White meme).
This was formative for me; I struggle to comprehend who I’d be today without all the cakery. It set me up for life - from a young age I could acknowledge the effort, care and detail required of creative pursuits, and the food on my table. It was chemistry 101, too! You don’t know joy until you’ve had dough double in size, or turned egg whites into billowing clouds.
I might be doing myself a disservice here, but a lopsided, lumpy-iced cake made with mess, curiosity, smarties - and even box mix - will often outshine the perfect pie. So bake that bloody cake! Piece it back together after you’ve forgotten to grease the pan! Be impatient for it to cool and let the icing split and drip down the sides! It will do you a world of good. (Though perhaps don’t follow those recipes from the ‘60s, unless you have gelatine, tinned pineapple and raisins to spare).
My final crumb - there’s a knot in my stomach telling me that fondant-iced cakes are on the precipice of a return into vogue. The expectation of seamless, swirl-less, air-bubble-less buttercream finishes and the trending Princess Cake (Swedish origins) - hugged in a layer of leaf green marzipan - is just the beginning. For now though, I’ll add it to the list of things to cry about in the egg aisle.
I’m at @kerri.cakery if - and only if - you need me.