Lemon Curd Cake

In celebration of what is almost certainly going to be one of the few sunny hot days left this summer, I was invited to a jolly barbecue at my good mate Jo’s house in Tooting. While it’s more customary to show up to a barbecue bearing booze or meat, I – as it my wont – offered to make something sugary and sinful and, having taken a couple of votes, settled upon Delia’s Lemon Curd Cake as suitably summery yummery.

In bullet points:

  • Overslept
  • Meticulously mixed sponge, using all the little discoveries I’ve made recently to make it as fluffy and light as I could
  • Decided upon three sponges because when I had made it once before, there wasn’t enough sponge to split into four layers as per Delia’s instructions
  • Lined cake tins on the bottom and sides to minimise browning on the sides, which would be un-iced
  • Used tiny plastic pegs to make the baking paper round the sides behave while I filled the tins
  • Put sponges in oven
  • Almost 10 minutes in, realised I hadn’t removed the pegs
  • Opened the oven and hastily cut the half-melted pegs off the paper
  • Closed the oven, berating myself
  • Removed sponges from tins and was decidedly underwhelmed by the rise, so double-checked the recipe
  • Realised I’d forgotten the extra baking powder (in addition to the self-raising flour)
  • Cursed
  • Performed quick inventory of ingredients before starting again
  • Mixed second sponge less meticulously, cursing most of the time
  • Put sponges in oven
  • Took sponges out of oven, and dismayed to discover that the rise was no better
  • Showered while they cooled
  • Sulkily slathered sponges together with lemon curd
  • Mixed up icing for top, separated a little, coloured it yellow and poured it into a small plastic sandwich bag for piping
  • Poured white icing on, realised I hadn’t made enough, cursed a bit more
  • Said, “Can ANYTHING ELSE go wrong with this STUPID CAKE?”
  • Said, “You couldn’t just take a bottle of wine, like a normal person, could you?”
  • Made more white icing, poured it on
  • Snipped corner off sandwich bag, piped yellow lines across top of cake, then grumpily dragged skewer across in each direction to create feathered effect
  • Put the lid on the box
  • Travelled to Jo’s, sneering and muttering at the inferior, flat cake the whole way, consoling myself with the fact that the feathering was pretty

I’ve since discovered that lots of people have had rise problems with this particular recipe, so I feel a little better about the world, whilst stubbornly refusing to admit that it could possibly be a slightly duff recipe from one of my culinary heroes.

Flat. Flat, flat, flat. Flat. But very tasty: