Crazy Cake Season 2024—well, that was a fail

The cake was ugly even before the jelly layer was added on top…

The girl turned 20 this week, but she hasn’t outgrown crazy birthday cakes. Her response when I asked her what she wanted this year was: How would you feel about making a hornwort (Anthocerophyta not Ceratophyllum)?

Well, that’s a gauntlet thrown, for sure. Hornworts’ thin, jelly-like ‘leaves’ and tall, narrow sporophytes do not lend themselves to buttercream icing. This called for a new technique.

I immediately thought of agar agar (a vegetarian gelatine substitute, for those who don’t know), which has the right sheen for a hornwort, and which I knew could be made into thin, textured sheets (I knew this because I’ve used it for creating texture on fake wounds … yeah, I do a lot of weird stuff.)

As I was looking up a good water:agar ratio for the consistency I wanted, I stumbled across the world of jelly cakes. I was immediately hooked. They look totally disgusting to eat (I hate jelly/jello, won’t use gelatine because it’s not vegetarian, and I think agar tastes like seaweed), but visually they’re amazing.

So when I found that my thin agar leaves were fiddly and a bit too floppy, I decided I would do a jelly cake and create my hornwort using jelly cake techniques. 

And the jelly added extra special ugliness.

I spent two hours practicing with the jelly last week, making sure I could do it without all the specialised equipment the professionals use. Then I made the other components of the cake over the weekend. I first made the actual cake (because no way was I going to have only jelly cake to eat) using a new recipe. This turned out so awful, I made a second cake with a tried-and-true recipe because there was no way I could use the first. I made the fake moss (using a new technique I hadn’t used before), chocolate tree bark (again, something I hadn’t made before), and the icing (using an unusual recipe I had never used before). 

Then, on the girl’s birthday, I made the jelly hornwort and assembled the whole thing.

The result? Pretty ugly, and not very hornwort-like. Or bark-like, or moss-like. And the icing set up like glue …

But hey, you’ve got to try new things, right? On the plus side, I learned about jelly cakes. I learned that the specialised equipment the professionals use is probably necessary to do it well. I learned how to create a decent jelly from agar agar (I mean, as decent as any jelly can be—yuck!), which I could now use to create moulded shapes or other embellishments for future cakes. I learned how not to make chocolate tree bark, and that a certain cake recipe and icing recipe can be discarded. The fake moss was definitely more moss-like than previous techniques I’ve tried. It’s one that’s probably worth playing with and refining.

Trying new things can pay off…

So I learned some things. And I got to eat cake. It may not be pretty, and the icing texture is simply wrong, but the flavour’s good.

And I have to remind myself that sometimes trying something new does work. Remember the octopus cake? Better luck next time.

Crazy Cake #2–2020

My son, the budding architect, has always challenged my cake decorating skills with his annual birthday cake requests. A star destroyer, the city of Dale, Wellington … his requests tend toward angular, built structures difficult to sculpt in cake and icing. This year he asked for ‘a brick’. Just getting the colour right was going to be a challenge. And then I had to make the brick special in some way.

I thought maybe I’d cover it in lichens and moss (easy to fashion from frosting and Mexican paste). But a photo online caught my attention … I came up with a plan that I thought would tax my confectionery skills more than mere decoration would. A little maths, a little measuring, a little cutting, and …

There’s more to this brick than meets the eye.

Crazy Cake Season 2018—#2

My son left it wide open for me this year. He wanted his usual spice cake (the one I’ve marked with his name in the cookbook), but he left it up to me how I decorated it.

I swear that was more difficult than being told what he wanted.

After many hours scouring the cupboards and looking at cake photos online for inspiration, I came up with a large geode.

Most geode cakes online are, frankly, weird—an ordinary tiered cake covered smoothy in fondant, with a slash down the side filled with geode crystals. They don’t look like a geode at all, and some look disturbingly like vaginas. I didn’t think my son would appreciate that. I strove for a more natural geode look.

I also hoped for a tastier geode material. I was inspired to do a geode by a bag of crystalised ginger in the cupboard. Most geode cakes, though, are made with rock candy, which isn’t the nicest accompaniment to cake. On a spice cake, I thought crystalised ginger would be a much more appropriate flavour (and texture). Unfortunately, my experiments with colouring ginger were uninspiring—the ginger had a beautiful sparkling appearance, but light colours looked grey on the yellowish ginger, and dark colours looked black. I couldn’t manage a nice geode-like lavender.

So I made purple hard candy and broke it into shards for the crystals.

The result was reasonably geode-like, and easy to make. And better than a crystal vagina.

Cake #2 of Crazy Cake Season

img_3078He asked for a cube. Said I could decorate it however I wanted to. My first thought was to create a building (because he’s keen on architecture) but, truth is, a cubical building just looks wrong. Then I thought a Rubix cube or Lego block would be cute…but dreadfully boring to make. I wanted to create something unexpected, something not meant to be cubical. And I wanted an excuse to play with more Mexican paste.

So, inspired by Terry Pratchett’s Discworld, I created Cubeworld. Instead of elephants holding it up, there is a dragon holding it down…or something.

Along the way, I learned more about Mexican paste (or maybe I learned more about my sculpting skills…). Creating largish shapes with it is easy–it’s lovely to work with–but fashioning tiny animals was almost impossible (again, probably my skill here, not the Mexican paste at fault). I tried to make the dragon smaller, in keeping with the scale of the other parts of the scene, but I just couldn’t manage the tiny spikes and other sculptural details needed. And the longer I fussed with it, the drier it got, until the thin parts started crumbling. I just couldn’t work fast enough at a tiny scale.

In hindsight, it would have been good to practise with modelling clay or plasticine until I could form the dragon quickly.

Despite its limitations, the Mexican paste was, again, fun to play with, and was able to do things icing just can’t do.