The cake, not the bird

I have been grappling with the fact that I don’t seem to discover new music anymore. Music that I naturally and effortlessly feel drawn to, which compels me to drain my measly 500mb monthly data pack. It’s Red Hot Chili Peppers or Three Days Grace most of the time; sometimes Poets of the Fall and Tori Amos. Commentors on YouTube are very apologetic about listening to songs from 2005, 2012, heck, even 2014, in 2016. I’d be wringing my hands all the time then. My typical baking songlist alternates between The Cardigans, Evanescence and Tame Impala (now that’s a new-ish find).

Conclusion: Discovering new music is not easy. By contrast, new, doable recipes are not too hard to come by in the baking bylines of the world wide web.

The recipe for this mutated hummingbird cake, for instance. Most of the versions I saw were gorgeous layer cakes, glazed with the promise of moist heartiness. I am not ambitious  and just this one layer was as far as I went, and it was pretty good, the runny icing notwithstanding. In goes crushed banana and pineapple. I don’t believe in pineapple in carrot cake—carrots should never be trifled with. In the hummingbird cake, the pineapple tempers the banana-y intensity and lends it a lush lightness. I’ve also come to think that cinnamon is overrated, unless it’s a cinnamon roll packed with brown sugar. A ‘wise’ person once said one can’t differentiate between my banana, pumpkin and carrot cake because the base flavour is cloyingly cinnamon-y. There was fighting and kicking at first but I have come to the conclusion that when using overripe bananas, roasted pumpkin or red carrots in cake batter, cinnamon is redundant.

It’s a cake I see myself returning to, canned pumpkin and bananas not being hard to come by and the almost toffee-ish undercurrent being easy to replicate (fingers crossed till next time).

So, hum along to the dense notes of hummingbird cake.