This week's special edition of 'What Bridie Baked' comprises of a joint effort between myself and my cousin Rosie, and involves the combining of our individual talents for a shared vision. Our mission was to bake physics themed cakes for Rosie's last day as a publishing editor at IOP Publishing; the creators of respected physics journals.
We set out to push the boundaries of cookery and science, and prove that the combination of physics and cake is less like chalk and cheese, and more of a marriage made in heaven. With my baking prowess and Rosie's physics expertise, surely this was a pairing that could take us all the way to the Nobel Prize, Masterchef, and beyond?
Before our cake partnership could begin, I first had to endure the 4 hour train journey from Chester to Bristol Temple Meads. Meanwhile back at the ranch, Rosie had bought ingredients, and selected an array of physics inspired decorations to knock the socks off even the most apathetic physicist. Unless they're Einstein - he didn't wear any socks.
After arriving in Bristol and having a catch up over a Chinese take-away, we got started with the cake baking. It's always difficult cooking away from home, as you never know where the utensils are or how to work the oven. Fortunately, I had Rosie on hand as my glamorous assistant.
In the absence of a food mixer, we took it in turns to mix all the ingredients together with a fork until we had something that resembled cake mixture. It looked and tasted very good, proving that if you've got a strong arm and a good whisk action, you don't need fancy utensils to bake a cake. We spooned the mixture into muffin cases and miniature cake cases, and put on a baking tray in a hot oven.
The next and most crucial stage was the decoration. This was the stage that was to turn our plain cupcakes into works of scientific art. At our disposal we had pink and blue butter cream, white chocolate stars, multi-coloured sugar stars, sparkle dust, and some strange spiky sugar balls that Rosie thought looked like exploding nuclei. While mixing together the butter and icing sugar, I also did a quick demonstration of Newton's Law of Gravity by knocking the blue food colouring all over the work surface.
Rosie had also bought some rum flavouring, which we added to the butter cream. We wondered what the secret ingredient must be in this flavouring to make it taste of rum, and upon reading the label discovered it was, in fact, rum. I was a bit concerned about the cakes stinking out her offices with their potent alcoholic scent, but we decided to throw caution to the wind and use it anyway. After all, it was Rosie's last day and the probability of her being sacked was low.
So, how does one represent the Universe in a Cake Case? Well, we have formulated some theories on that issue. Collectively, they represent chaos theory, especially when you take into consideration the tip we made in the kitchen. Rosie thinks that they evoke the notion of subatomic particles or atomic nuclei, and perhaps the most striking image is the one of a cake about to be swallowed up by my ‘black cake-hole.’
The cakes tasted out of this world, and the heavily decorated topping created a taste explosion. Kind of like the Big Bang, in a good way. Maybe it was the rum flavouring talking, but we also received a lot of compliments from Rosie’s colleagues.
So, did we succeed in our mission? Share your view and leave us a comment.
