I’ve been thinking about a cake named Herman. He’s kind of like a chain letter except he smells of yeast and comes with instructions to be stirred and spoken to every few days. After ten days, and some added ingredients, Herman splits into five parts (you cook one and pass the remaining four batches onto friends so that they can continue the chain.) Legend has it that this cake has been doing the rounds for years, leading either to a whole lotta love, or a mass pandemic of food poisoning.
I thought it was just a Leeds thing, until my sister-in-law in Suffolk texted me with the curious offer of sending me some ‘unbaked cake’. Fearing that it could be a Herman and I would be responsible for keeping him ‘alive’, I politely declined, feeling only slightly guilty that Amanda hadn’t found anybody who would take a batch off her hands. So imagine my joy and surprise when a COOKED Herman arrived for me this morning!
I gazed at it in wonder, knowing that this was no ordinary cake. This was Herman, the cake with a destiny. The cake who has endured for years. The cake whose siblings are being eaten round the country as I type. The cake which SHOULD have arrived unbaked forcing me to follow the instructions and multiply him in ten days time… Yet this Herman was not multiplied– he was baked before his time– so this is where his line ends, and oh, I don’t mind, because he tastes so good and eating him is so easy.
In closing, what’s better than a friendship cake that lasts forever? A sister-in-law who breaks the chain and cooks the cake for you instead!