There’s a certain type of confidence that’s particular to middle aged men, and it was with this certainty that nothing could possibly go wrong that I decided if I was going to bake a cake I might as well go the whole way and do it in my home built smoker.
I won’t pretend I attempted anything fancy, it was after all my first ever crack at this cake business, so after a short search I settled on something so simple they use it in primary school cooking classes; pineapple upside down cake. Yes, I was going to bake my first ever cake in a converted 44-gallon drum and I was going to do it upside down.
My planning was meticulous; the roast beef would go in the smoker for two hours and come out at a piping 65 degrees (Uncle Ken is a medium-well done kind of guy), then while the beef was resting the cake would take its place in the smoker for an hour, coming out for dessert just as we were finishing dinner.
To ensure things went smoothly I started my preparation early. I poured 50g of melted butter into my newly purchased cast iron frying pan, I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw Briscoe’s had them on sale, and sprinkled ¾ of a cup of brown sugar on top of that. This was going to be the sweet sauce on top of the cake. Then I added a layer of pineapple rings, omitting the maraschino cherries the recipe called for because I’m not a monster, and got to mixing my batter.
The batter is so simple it’s almost embarrassing; 1.5 cups of self-rising flour, 1 cup of white sugar and a teaspoon of salt all mixed together. Then add 50g of melted butter, a cup of buttermilk and 2 eggs and stir it all like mad and pour it over the pineapple rings in your frying pan.
I proudly tweeted my achievements at about 3pm and was almost immediately asked if I was having the cake for afternoon tea, because apparently you can’t leave mixed batter just sitting on the bench for a few hours while you tell people how clever you are.
This led to a the smoker being hastily lit and the cake going in at 4pm while Ken and I watched in vain as the smoker obstinately refused to hit the desired temperature of 175 degrees, this cake was going to be cooked at 150 degrees or not at all.
An hour later, toothpick at hand, Ken and I eagerly lifted the lid to check on our golden brown creation. The toothpick was unnecessary as the sight that greeted us was almost indistinguishable from the raw batter that had gone in earlier.
After a quick conference we decided that cake or no cake we did actually want roast beef for dinner, so off came the lid again and onto the coals went a chunk of apple wood. The roast was plonked on the bottom rack, the cake back on the top rack and on went the lid.
This had all the hallmarks of a disaster, which was not a scenario that had occurred to me at any point during the day. Then a miracle happened, I had severely overestimated the cooking time for the beef and a mere 70 minutes later it was ready to eat.
Ken and I extracted the roast with the sort of teamwork and precision normally reserved for brilliantly executed All Black tries and were thrilled to see the cake was no longer a runny mess but actually semi-solid, so we replaced the lid and shut off the airflow to the coals and went inside for dinner.
After dinner I brought the cake inside, golden brown and oh so fancy in its bright red frying pan. I flipped the pan upside down and the cake slid effortlessly onto the waiting platter, drenched with thick sweet sauce, pineapple rings glistening proudly.
I’ve baked my first cake now and it was rich, sweet, hot, smoky and delicious. Maybe I’ll use the oven next time.
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