Chaos in the kitchen

I’m not the most accomplished cook by any stretch of the imagination. Oh, I can make you a reasonable pasta dish and if you ask nicely, I might produce a decent Cottage Pie once in a while. Anything more complicated and I usually end up halfway through a recipe questioning the instructions aloud like a madman: “Simmer until tender?!” “Reduce by half?”, and so on.

So you can imagine what it’s like with me trying to cook alongside my two-and-a-half year old daughter Seren. Yep, utter chaos.

We tried baking a cake together the other day. Well, we did actually do the baking, but what came out of the oven couldn’t really be called “cake”, by even the most generous of descriptions. There we were, me trying to measure out some more butter on the digital scales – useless, useless things for measuring anything like butter. You put the butter on, but of course as you’re trying to hit the “reset” button because the stupid scales are telling you that your “ounce” of butter weighs in at 4Kg, the butter falls off the scales. Ah, the beautiful simplicity of old-school balancing scales, back in t’day!

Balance Scale (image: Nikodem Nijaki)

Balance Scale (image: Nikodem Nijaki)

Anyway, there’s me, swearing at the digital scales, while Seren is ever-so-helpfully putting the cake mixture bit by bit from the bowl onto the floor. “What are you doing?! Stop it!” I cry, “You’re supposed to be mixing! That’s not funny!”

“It IS FUNNY!” she yells, glad of the attention and spooning more of the precious cake mixture onto the floor.

Having showed Seren how to carefully sift the flour into a bowl, she soon realises that as well as shaking the sieve gently, she can also shake it really hard with the result that there’s a lovely snowfall of flour. Everywhere. My back is turned for 20 seconds while I look for the sugar, and I hear: “Uh oh. Messy!”

“What’s messy?” (Calm. Measured. Don’t turn around straight away, but wait a second and…breathe.)

“Seren’s did put it EVERYWHERE.”

“Arrrgh! What a mess! I said do it gently!! GENTLY. I need to put the sugar in now and there’s no flour and…(breathe). Right, I’ll do the flour, you can put the sugar in. SLOWLY, OK? No, you can’t just eat it. Put it in the bowl nicely.”

We eventually get the cake mixture into a tin and into the oven, where in my distracted-by-a-two-year-old state (I think we were playing a game of ‘Let’s Pretend’ or ‘Let’s Pin the Blame on Papa’ or something) I forget to check on it. One hour later…well, let’s just put it this way: we had to close all the doors and open the big windows. The texture was the sort that, after one bite, you’re thinking, “Was that a tooth?”

Seren baking