Baking for Brighton (and Hove, actually)

Sod the art. I have discovered, dear reader, that when it comes to the real bare knuckle competition the cakes have it, no contest. (By the way, are there any readers? If so, do click the comments tab and send a wave and a hellooo! Returning visitors might issue an 'elo, 'elo and so on.)

Now it could be the effects of the economic climate but I am becoming ever more convinced that this whole Artists Open House thing is, in fact, a subterfuge for top patissiers and chocolatiers to ply their wares to the locals ... of course, only using fresh, locally sourced ingredients, prepared simply, with at least 110% of effort and a real passion for food. 

The alternative is that it may be one of those government employment schemes to keep out of work artists as far away as possible from the state benefit system (or its statistics) ... unless they are migrants in which case, by definition, they are already as far away as possible from official statistics. Missing work? ... Not me!

Back to the point. You may have detected a certain frisson of tension in this blog because, believe me, competition for the cake trade is serious business. If you are still in any doubt, let me enlighten you. Apparently there is one woman on the Seven Dials circuit who is renowned for her teas and spends about three weeks of every year baking in preparation. I rest my case. 

Originally we hadn't intended to do refreshments at all. But then everyone we knew began saying that they planned which open houses to visit according to which ones provided tea and cake. So we thought we could get away with offering the odd dried biscuit or two just in case a marauding bon vivant was attacked by acute hunger between gastronomic pit-stops (note to Heavenly - my dear, really, I'm not besmirching the virtues of your Lemon Drizzle, it was lovely - please, keep baking!). But now somehow - actually, if you've read my previous post then you'll know how - this whole refreshments antic has snowballed out of control.

Heavenly and I are good at responding to a challenge and we ended up producing quite a mouthwatering (and waist expanding) selection including: a couple of chocolate cakes which I believe have healing powers; a relatively healthy carrot cake; the aforementioned Jean's banana loaf (like Jean, a little nutty); Heavenly's fruity cheesecake (like Heavenly ...); and individual cakes that, quite possibly, were made by Heavenly's resident fairies.   

As temperatures threatened to soar - given the gender and age of the artists it was likely to be hot flush central in our back room - we added a supply of choc-ices to our menu and set up a fan. 

Much to my surprise the cakes went down rather well ... and word got out. Particular favourites were Heavenly's cheesecake and my chocolate one. There was, though, an incident involving three delightful gentlemen who thought they had found a lovely quiet spot in the garden to sit, near the lilac and shaded by the gazebo. As they gracefully sipped tea, munched cake and chatted amongst themselves, their invasion into our estate was discovered by George, our neighbour's dog, which crept up to the fence behind them and began to let rip.

But for me the real deal is still the art. So if you return, you who only wanted to engage with my chocolate cake, I am of a mind to enculturate you ... a Rodin sculpture in gateau, perhaps? After all, I did win the 'Virtue, Learning and Manners' trophy at school you know.