
I made up the Redemption Cake from a lot of recipes. I’m grateful for the convenience of online recipes and search engines and all the creative cooks and bakers out there sharing their mad skills. Though technology is a trade off, it’s here to stay (at least until it destroys us all), and I use it for good instead of evil.

I started the cake on Saturday afternoon, making the lemon curd filling so it could chill overnight, then making the orange sponge. I set out six eggs earlier to come to room temperature, then separated them. The yolks got whipped til thick, then mixed with orange zest, orange juice, and sugar, then cake flour, which I made by switching out two tablespoons regular flour for two tablespoons corn starch per cup of flour. This creates a lighter flour, necessary since the only leavening is the airy eggs.

Then the whites got whipped with cream of tartar and more sugar til stiff peaks, and then folded into the yolk mixture.


I could have whipped the whites even more, but was overcautious to avoid breaking the meringue, which can happen if you over beat the mixture. But I never used to be afraid of that before watching GBBO and seeing it happen.

The batter is poured into an ungreased pan so it can climb the sides as it rises.

The sponge turned out pretty well, but if I make it again I’ll start the oven when I put the pan in rather than preheating. I’ve read that some cakes do better starting in a cold oven but I had forgotten, and that instruction wasn’t in the recipe. Nor did it say to preheat the oven, it was just habit.
As the cake cooled I made the shortbread and shaped the logs so the cookies would be like tiles the height of the sponge. Those chilled for awhile and I baked them right before bed. Then I tackled the white chocolate mascarpone frosting. It actually whipped up beautifully this time, but it was late and I didn’t want to assemble the cake until Sunday morning so the fillings and frosting didn’t soak into the sponge and make it soggy. I also felt they should be refrigerated overnight, with eggs in the curd and cheese in the frosting.

In the morning I cut the cake into thirds and layered in the fillings, lemon curd in the lower and calamondin jam in the top layer.



I’d taken the frosting out of the fridge a couple of hours earlier. It had set pretty hard and I thought it would soften up and I could spread it. But it didn’t soften enough, so I beat it for just a few seconds and it immediately started to break up just as it had with the caketastrophe. I stopped, and used it as is, grateful that I was already planning to hide it with ganache. At least it didn’t completely fall apart as before, and I was able to cover the cake. I may give up on this frosting. But I do believe that it would have been perfect if I’d spread it as soon as I made it. So maybe I’ll try one more time, when I’ve got the cake ready to frost.

One big culinary success with this particular cake is confident ganache. It couldn’t be easier, just heating heavy cream and pouring it over chocolate, but you do have to be careful not to get the cream too hot, and not to overmix. Timing is everything. But I know now that I can make chocolate ganache, and that opens up a lot of creative possibilities.


Sadly, the ganache had to go on while it was still a little warm, which further melted the white chocolate frosting. I was sure glad I had the shortbreads ready to cover the slippy sides, and they perfectly wedged the cake into the stand. The cover fit perfectly as well, and I was grateful to get a ride to the party so I could hold it carefully the whole way.

It was a beautiful thing to see Philip dancing to his special birthday song, along with a dozen friends, some going back half his eighty year lifetime, some recent, and some like me who’ve known and loved him for twenty years. I explained that he had to cut the first piece for himself, because that’s what I learned: you don’t get your birthday wish if you don’t get the first piece of your cake.


So, it doesn’t look perfect inside, but it looks just fine. And it tasted delicious. I have even more admiration and respect now for those amateur British bakers. No matter whether they create amazing showstoppers or tragic technicals, they do it in an hour or two or four, clock ticking, people talking at them the whole time, under tremendous pressure. I’m glad I set myself this challenge, and glad that Wren’s my only kitchen companion. I look forward to the next birthday cake next week!









































































































