Finger licking good ...

“Dad, please remember to get the eggless date muffins from Sai Tara” I shouted as I waved him goodbye. He mumbled a “If I can remember what you want” and picked up his bags. “I won’t forget to remind you when you call me” I smiled and hurried back to my room.

He called. I reminded. He said they might get spoiled on the way back to Mandi. I told him not to buy them in that case. He bought them anyways. I relished each morsel, every tidbit.

Mum saw me through. “You really love these. Don’t you?” I just smiled and digged my spoon yet again into the little yummy muffin.

“Mum? Can we make these at home? I mean these are just like cakes or rather cupcakes, I should say.”

“Why don’t you find out? Your Google will tell you all, I guess.”

This is her way of getting me interested in handling ladles and woks. And this usually works. As do all her ideas.

I obediently Googled the “eggless date cake recipe” and discussed with her all the requirements and procedures. The recipe was understood. And it so turned out that all the ingredients were also available with us. I could set about the task whenever I felt like.

I was deliberating. Cakes are not my thing. I mean cooking itself is a challenge for me. And cakes need expertise. So, I postponed the task twice. Third time, I knew it was going to be now or never. “So, now it is”, I decided and started off the procedure.

By the time, I was done blending the ingredients, half a day had already passed. And I was dead tired. But the major task was done. Mum had dusted the baking tray and set the oven for pre-heating. She helped me pour the batter into the tray and stack it in the oven.

And then we both waited. With our fingers crossed.

She kept checking it time to time while I was still in the kitchen, clearing off the mess that I had made there. 

Finally, she called out to me. After a good 35 minutes.

“The cake is ready.”

But, this did nothing to ease the butterflies in my stomach. “What if it breaks while taking it out of the baking tray? What if it does not taste good?” I could only wait for the answers to come.

We let it cool for a while and then I waited with a bated breath while mum took it out.

Perfect and moist. I just kept staring at the tray and the cake. Some things are definitely hard to believe. This was one of those moments.

The cake was finally cut and tasted. The compliments were flowing.

By the evening I was not sure whether I genuinely deserved those accolades or whether they were to appease me.

The next morning, my sister dropped in unannounced at 8:00 A.M. “Do we still have some cake left over? I just wanted to taste it.”

I knew for sure then. :)