Good food gels well with good humor. We all love good food without being a gastronome. Now-a-days, anything with the tagline of ‘goodness’ is a popular choice. We are more health conscious than we ever were before. People belonging to the generation previous to ours, recount tales of horror and deprivation associated with the Great Bengal Famine. My father, late Shyamal Dutta Ray, was a painter during his lifetime. He passed away in 2005.

Baba’s watercolors are still regarded as pioneering works in the firmament of the contemporary Indian art scene. His famous ‘Broken Bowl’ series of works in watercolor, depict the penury of man. He once painted a king, riding upon a horse, with a broken bowl, outstretched in his hand. Baba had witnessed the famine. He used to recount tales that made me shirk away – I was very young then. But now I vividly recall his graphic tales that shimmer like shining glass before my eyes.

He had taught me never – ever – to throw away even a grain of rice. I am not much of a gourmand myself. But Ma’s cooking still makes my mouth water. My parents had chosen each other as life partners, themselves. Those were the turbulent years of the Naxalite Movement in Bengal. My mother, a retired school teacher now and an octogenarian, still loves to cook. It is from her that I have inherited and perfected upon my culinary skills. I don the garb of a cook sometimes. But like most maidens of an Indian household, I refrain from interfering in the daily cooking regimen.

Cakes are something which never require an occasion to enjoy. They can be had, just like that. Simple cakes are far different from the gala extravaganza that are ‘Birthday Cakes’. Simple cakes are mood-enhancers, a joy to have and to share. I once baked a cake and it was a huge hit. It was nothing exotic, but it tasted delicious. I had purchased a cake oven from the nearest shop in Lake Market. Just in case…

I don’t mind sharing the recipe and the guidelines….

Because I had repeated the process and each time, the cakes drew huge rounds of appreciation from both my household members and friends alike. I called my cake PLAIN GINGER N’ CARDAMOM CAKE. Here is the recipe and here are the ingredients:

• 1 cup of flour
• 1 cup of refined sugar
• 2 tbsps of butter
• 4 eggs
• 1 tbsp of honey
• 1 tsp of the extract of ginger & cardamom paste
• 1 pinch of salt
• 1 drop of vanilla essence

METHOD:

Mix all the ingredients together with a hand blender. Before mixing, it is better to whip the eggs with the help of an egg-beater. The blender must work until all the ingredients are mixed well and turned into a smooth batter.

Take out the cake oven. In the tray inside, pour the entire batter evenly. Bake the cake for three quarters of an hour. Switch off the oven and let the cake cool. Take out the Ginger and Cardamom cake and serve to guests or to family members.

Baba used to love this cake. It’s been years since I baked a cake. I recently did on Ma’s birthday. She loved it too. Baking a cake is easy once one has all the ingredients handy and within arm’s length. Cakes add that bit of extra love to your daily activities. I personally do not prefer the gooey, chocolatey – dripping with cream – cakes. For me, the plain vanilla ones are the best. They form the perfect accompaniment to a warm cup of coffee. Anytime of the day. Any month of the calendar year.

We – my parents and me – had traveled once to the United Kingdom. From London, we had a mini Europe tour, covering countries like France, Belgium, Italy, Switzerland. Even while staying in London, at my cousin’s residence near the Hounslow Tube Station, we were always spoilt for choices during breakfast. Breads of every color, shape and size, greeted us and… muffins. I still love to eat muffins. Yes, still. Eating cakes after all needs no age bar. Purchasing a pack of plain muffins is as different from baking a cake by oneself, as heaven is from hell.

Cakes are delicious in themselves and are enjoyed by people belonging to all age groups. Just the other day, I had gone to a patisserie shop near Golpark in south Kolkata – almost close to where I myself reside – in order to purchase a packet of cookies and, if suitable enough, also some plain cakes. It’s not always possible to bake cakes by oneself at home, due to time constraints and other household works. A small boy – a street urchin, probably – was playing skipping with a length of rope. His smile was beatific. It was quite evident that he was plainly enjoying his hour of play.

“Didi, Aami cake khabo!” ( Didi, I want to have a cake).

He was playing just outside the shop – a reputed patisserie chain of outlets in the city. There was a crowd of people who were sitting on small chairs – lying scattered there to give it the impression of a coffee shop – enjoying their cups of cappuccino. The hour was around four o’clock in the late afternoon. I decided that I will purchase a cake from the shop and give it to the little boy. But a girl had already spotted him before me, and had packed a packet of cake, wrapped in a small paper box. Good Samaritans abound in these times too! So it seemed!

I think I will never be able to forget that day – that late afternoon hour of dusk.

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