Recently on an episode of Top Chef France, the contestants were all given the task to prepare a chocolate cake. Pretty much all of the chefs balked at the exercise, to the general tune of: "I am a chef, not a pastry chef (je suis cuisiner, pas patissier!). It's true: baking requires an altogether different set of skills from cooking. It is less forgiving of deviations and substitutions, and demands the utmost precision. When I was training in the kitchen back in Marseille, I both loved (for its sheltered isolation) and hated (for missing out on the action in the rest of the kitchen) the pastry station (see http://thrillainmassalia.blogspot.ch/2010_11_01_archive.html for more). 

But back to Geneva, where my dear friend C turned forty last Saturday, and yours truly had the honour to bake her a cake. So the fun part of a cake is that you can treat it as a canvas in a way you could not a main dish… or at least in my limited experience. Since the theme of the birthday party was 1940, I immediately hit the internet for typical 1940 birthday cakes. Unfortunately, nothing very inspiring came up. What I did stumble upon at the store were these adorable champagne candles… I knew they were perfect for the birthday girl, who is a self-proclaimed champagne junkie and connoisseur. Then, miraculously, the cake just built itself from the top down. Or just about. I searched for "champagne cake" and it turns out that pink champagne cakes were all the rage in the 1950s (close enough - after all, she did specify post-war). It also turned out I had a perfectly yummy bottle of Pommery Brut in the refrigerator just begging to be sublimated into a show-stopping confection… so white (as opposed to pink) champagne cake it would be! I also thought it was more appropriate to skip the food colour as Europeans don't seem as fond of it as, say, Filipinos or Americans More than one European has balked at my purple yam cake because of its vibrant violet colour, deemed too unnatural in this part of the world (pic below).

Never, ever do like me and try a cake recipe for the first time when you are to serve it. The scariest part for me here was the frosting. The more I read on the internet about horror stories with champagne frosting, the more I was freaking out. And lo and behold, my champagne frosting was the fluffiest, creamiest ever.

In the end, the whole thing came together, my daughter helped me decorate and C was super happy, and so was I. Happy fortieth, C!