CARROT CAKE REVIEW No 30 - The Cake That Was Not There

 Norwich, Norfolk.











Just when you think there is nothing new in the world of Carrot Cakes, either to be said or reported upon. Then you encounter something you truly hope is a one off, an anomaly, a catering glitch in life's kitchen. But perhaps this is a perverted new trend in contemporary cafés. And you, having been the first to discover it, must then alert the world to its manifestation in the real world. Its criminal and pernicious consequences pointed out. Consider this your early warning

Hubby and I were in Norwich. We'd just walked miles from the garage on the outskirts where we'd left Barbara to be investigated for a coolant leak. Desperate for a Flat White and a cake, as a well earned reward for making it this far on foot. Now Norwich, even if you only half know it, is not short of a cafe or two. We chose this particular cafe in Exchange street, simply because it was there. We walked in, it was our choice. 

All I can say in our defense is - it looked welcoming, vaguely hipsterish with indications of a wholesomeness normally associated with a Health Food store.  Wobbly wooden tables, roughly sanded old floors, industrial style lighting, staff wearing full length aprons and a general ambiance of the improvised and upcycled. You get the drill.

We had to wait a while to have our order taken. Maybe we should've left. Unfortunately we were just a fraction too patient. Now in most cafes when I place my order for the game changing Flat White with a Carrot Cake chaser, I sort of expect that it will come in that sequence. In most cafés it does. The coffee arrives first - the cake will follow. Standard etiquette. Maybe I should have perceived this as an oracle for what was to come. The cake came first. So I sat there, for quite some time I might add, waiting for my Flat White to arrive before digging my fork into the cake. I do require the reassurance of the caffeine elixir being in full view. What if the cake turned out to be as dry as the Gobhi desert? Could there be anything worse? Well, read on.

Thankfully only one size of Flat White was offered. But on arrival it is served in a cappuccino sized cup. This is not good, and it wasn't. A strong latte coming up. Correction a weak latte was coming up. Oh dear, what was the cake going to be like? It looked a passable facsimile from the outside. But as soon as the fork went in, the cake crumbled into pieces. You put the fork into the broken off into smaller pieces, it shattered into even smaller bits of rubble. This went comically on and on, so before I reached 'totally crumb' level, I decided to just shovel it into my mouth. 

However, once it actually got into my gob I was baffled. Had I not just put cake in my mouth? Or was I imagining I did? Should there not be a sensation of carroty spicy flavours now running riot across my palette? Indeed there should have been. For whilst the cake had initially seemed to exist in the realm of solid form, its weight and texture all rapidly vanished, along with its flavour. Yes, disconcertingly, this cake had no flavour at all - At All! - No flavour - At All !! - Yes, you heard it, NO FLAVOUR - AT ALL.!!!!! 

I was so astounded I passed a piece to the Husband for confirmation. I hadn't suddenly developed an early symptom of Covid, had I?  But he confirmed it to be tasteless, sniffed and muttered - maybe a bit of banana. Yes, the infertile one. The flavour cuckoo. The infringer of Golden Rule No 8 . As there was no taste at all, how could that even be? So I could not concur. But the incriminating evidence was nonetheless stacking up. 

Then we came to the frosting, which fell out of the middle of the cake like it was the confectionery equivalent of a vaginal diaphragm. All of one piece floppy and rubbery. The top frosting being the same, but with a desultory dusting of a spice - maybe cinnamon, nutmeg, cocoa? I ceased to care. After further investigation I concluded the frosting wasn't even a particularly mutant form of buttercream, it was marshmallow. Yep, marsh - mallow. Sitting on the top like an off white layer of silicone bath sealant.

So what we have here was what I've always feared.  The logical culmination of every possible gluten free, dairy free, allergy free, vegan, bi-carb infused concoction, all being rolled into one cake. So careful not to upset or offend the ethical or digestive delicacy of someone's constitution that you don't just end up not with a poor substitute for a carrot cake, but no discernible carrot cake at all. You produce a ¡cake that is not there. A tasteless space. A carrot flavourless vacuum. A carrot cake that thrives in virtual reality, but not in mine. How can I even score a carrot cake that does not even exist? Well its a black mark for not telling me it was 'free from' literally everything, for a start.

This was a truly awful experience. The worst carrot cake I have ever, ever had the misfortune to pass from my mouth through to my anus. Most cakes I can find it within my crusty old soul to find one redeeming feature to at least raise a score eg - to congratulate the baker for getting out of bed that morning. But, sorry I am not in a charitable mood. I am unwilling to even countenance an unwarranted kindness. 

This carrot cake deserves to be punished, and punished severely. It was an abomination. They could have served me an empty box with 'carrot cake' hastily scribbled in Biro on the top, and I would not have known the difference.

Stephen, Stephen, Stephen, calm yourself. Surely you have made all this up? Exaggerated this purely for comic effect. Unfortunately all this is true. A carrot cake with no redeeming qualities.

Be warned, this cake is out now there.


CARROT CAKE REVIEW - 0




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