Baker Boys Coconut cake slice

First off, sorry for the following image. I'm afraid the package was far from easy to photo!

I'm sure all of us can remember the jam and coconut sponge squares served up at school dinners. If you don’t, I fear you missed out on one of the pleasures of early childhood and, as an unusual child, I would show my affection (and hopefully turn a few stomachs!) by referring to it as Blood and Dandruff cake.

To my recollection I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a pre-packed interpretation and so it came with great pleasure and surprise to see this offering from Baker Boys, who were responsible for a previously noted and delightfully nostalgic carrot cake.

This Coconut cake slice once again came in a sizeable serving and once extracted from its wrapper, I bit in with anticipation but disappointingly was let down. A light moist sponge, similar in texture to a muffin, gave way easily but had little flavour and seeming being ephemeral in the mouth. Worst was the jam and coconut topping, which could equally be described as a bland sticky substance topped with white flakes that apparently was desiccated coconut. These two aspects had no distinctive element or taste and seemed to exist only for aesthetics, whilst I presumed also that their aroma would be evident, yet there was only the slightest trace of stale brioche.

I was compelled to eat the whole thing believing it would sate my appetite, however the sponge is so fluffy and obviously processed that it solved nothing. To cap it off, the amalgamation of emulsifiers, preservatives and raising agents left distinct a coating in my mouth for a good 10 minutes after. Horrible.

Perhaps a little vanilla in the sponge, and a better quality, single fruit jam (Raspberry is the obvious option) would help all these woes, but its seems that Baker Boys try to mask the problems by instead providing a extravagant serving.

Leave it in the past, or save money by cooking your own!

Baker Boys Carrot Cake Slice

The prospect of Carrot cake has, for much of my life, been an alluring one, and, as Britain increasingly aspired to be vindicated as a nation of foodies, the humble carrot cake of my childhood has become a far more sophisticated item. With the addition of nuts, Pineapple, and Passion fruit, amongst a variety of other potential ingredients, it now is often seen in a far more exotic guise.

And it was, with a slight degree of trepidation, that I approached this (sizeable) slice of cake. With a label that seems not to have altered in the past 20 years (an unintentionally apt throwback!), and the cornrow topping, I had a mental idea of what this would taste like.

I was swept up in nostalgia. Its enormity made me feel six years old, when everything was preposterously oversized, Lifting (anchoring) the wedge from its plastic coffin, curiosity got a hold of me and I couldn’t resist the temptation of finding out quite how hefty it was. Impressively, it weighed in a little under 170g!

Taking a fork to it (I was trying to maintain my limited dignity, you must understand!), I first noticed the combined aroma of carrot and the sweet cream cheese, before devouring the chunk. The spongy texture was similar to Mr Kipling slices but was surprised that it was a little on the dry side since the carrot pieces were clearly visible (and a the perfect size). The topping had a smooth consistency, and none of the grittiness of poorly mixed sugar. Thankfully, this meant it was not overly sweet but was lacking in any strong spice element, a real hindrance since there were none of the additional flavours mentioned above. As a result it seemed very much like the cake of my childhood, and something I enjoyed as though meeting an old friend.

Generic in the best possible sense, this is not a cake for gourmets. Rather, it appeals to those of us who remember carrot cake as a rather uncomplicated symbol of simpler times. My advice, if the cake still sounds appealing, is to use it as a comfort aid reserved for when you want to be wrapped in a duvet and protected from the harsh world.

In a Word and a Number... Nostalgic [70]