The cult of the fancy blender

A strange cult is recruiting members amongst the women folk where I work.  So far, to the best of my knowledge, men seem largely immune to its siren song, but one-by-one women I know are being seduced into its clutches.

They call their idol “Thermomix”.

As far as I can tell, it’s an exceptionally fancy food processor that doubles as a mixer, an actually-quite-speedy slow cooker and an icecream maker (“doubles” may be the wrong word).

People I know and respect are gushing about this thing as if it the saviour of cooking.

I don’t think I’m in any danger of joining the cult, though.  For one thing, I am exceptionally tight-fisted when it comes to things that aren’t musical instruments or bicycles.  I just have real difficulty parting with sums over $250 for any one toy.  As Thermomixes cost decidedly more than that, I think I’m safe.

For another, it seems to me that Thermomixes take the cooking out of cooking.  

I mentioned this to a cult member, and she assured me one is still "cooking" when one uses a Thermomix, but from what the cult members say when they get together, it's a bit like they've hired a maid to do most of the work for them.  They cut up a few onions to pretend they're still taking part of the cooking process, and then take the credit for what comes out the other end.  But who's actually doing the cooking here?

I know I’m not much of a cook.  I rarely get the opportunity when I'm living at home, and when I'm living by myself I tend to gravitate towards stir-fries, stews and pasta.  Occasionally I'll get fancy and make an omelette.

Basically, my idea of a perfect meal involves chopping up a small number of ingredients and stirring them around a pan for short period of time.  I enjoy cooking simple meals, and I enjoy eating simple meals, so it all works out, really.

A device that relegates me to being the kitchen helper while it gets on with the cooking doesn't seem like a great deal of fun to me - and if I want to cook an omelette, let's be frank:  I'm just going to ignore the dang thing and cook a normal omelette.

The "Cup of Tea Cake"

I keep trying to make a Cup of Tea Cake.  I haven't quite got the balance right, but I feel I must persevere with this particular baked what-not as it's bound to become my go-to cake for all basic cakage needs - if only I can just get the proportions nailed.

The Cup of Tea Cake is know in my family as "Aunty Molly's Cup of Tea Cake", named after a great (and now deceased) aunt on my paternal grandfather's side.

I recently found similar recipes in a cook book, and felt compelled to start playing with it.

But it's such a finicky thing.  I know it can be done.  I know it can be nice.  One of my aunts makes it regularly.

It's so very, very simple... but like many "simple" recipes that house-wives of yesteryear used to make with their eyes closed, there's a knack to it.

The fact that I'm using gluten free flours (and experimenting with different brands) means I've got a lot more work to do before I find my knack.

The thing with a Cup of Tea Cake is that it only has one source of liquid - a cup of strong black tea.

You soak a cup of mixed fruit and half-a-cup of sugar overnight in a cup of strong black tea, and then you add a tea-spoon of bicarb or baking powder and some flour.  Then you pour it into a greased and lined/floured loaf tin/ring cake tin and cook it in a moderate oven for 45-60 minutes.

So, easy.  One night you chuck the fruit and tea into a bowl.  Then next night you through some flour into the mix and put it in a pan.  Voilà:  Cake.

I've never quite been able to get the mix right, though.

Getting the amount of flour just right has proven to be my main challenge.  The recipe my aunt dictated to my mother over the phone involves two cups of flour.  The recipes I've found in books ask for one.  I suspect with my gluten free flours, 1.5 is probably closer to the mark.

And I also suspect (although I've only recently had this thought) that it might be vitally important to use the exact same cup for all measurements.  At first I was being a bit overzealous with the amount of dried fruit, and just pouring in the better part of a packet rather than measuring it out.

As you would expect from a cake that doesn't have any milk, eggs or butter in it (perfect for vegans!), it's naturally a bit dry and need some "spread" to make it just right, but the excessive dried fruit was actually making it gluggy.  So, keep it to a cup.

There's another version that replaces the tea with black coffee and the mixed fruit with chopped dried dates.  I've had a bit more success with that one, but I suspect that's the dates invoking some sort of magic.

I'm going to keep trying it.  One day I'll get the knack, and then I'll have a nice, easy, lazy cake thing.

UPDATE, 2/4/2015:

For my money, the best combination is two cups of dried fruit soaked overnight in one cup of strong black tea, then mix in one cup of flour.  The 1-1 ratio of tea and flour works really well after soaking into two cups of dried fruit overnight.