Chocolate cake in particular is high on the list of most wanted in this household.
So, out came all the ingredients. As per usual I used my slap-dash method of cooking. Sort of a half hearted measure and in it goes. I know that contradicts all the golden rules of baking, but hey, it works for me.
Once I had chucked all the dry ingredients in one bowl, I then threw the butter and sugar in the other. Then I prepared to get busy with the hand held beater.
Trouble is.....it wouldn't work.
I undid the whirly thingos and then plugged them back in. I fiddled with the button whatsit on top. I shook it. I whacked it on the kitchen bench. I swore profusely at it.
Crap, crap, crap I muttered in fury. My third damn mixer this year. This is what I get for buying cheap rubbish, I reasoned. I yelled out to Hubby that if he expected half decent food he was going to have to buy me a kitchen aid for Christmas. It's either that or divorce, I informed him in a temper.
So, 15 minutes of me cursing and yelling and then I finally resigned myself to mixing the darn cake by hand. While I used my puny arm muscles to beat the butter and sugar into oblivion, I had a moment of blinding clarity, one that made me just a bit shameful of the preceding 15 minutes of pure and utter stupidity.
I picked up the beater......and I plugged it into the wall.............!