Sponges and tarts just sweet memories

Where I grew up, the sponge cake was king. I remember this being especially true on birthdays. We would swing by the Women’s Work Depot after school, spend a few moments perusing the cakes that had been delivered by a phalanx of grandmothers earlier that day, choose the softest one we could find and be breaking a Cadbury Flake over its freshly whipped cream by nightfall.

At the Mount Gambier Agricultural & Horticultural Spring Show each October during the 1990s – the championship for which the Women’s Work Depot suppliers were inevitably training – we would breeze past the carrot and chocolate cakes in the decrepit show hall, making a beeline for the sponges. The awe they provoked may have had something to with the fact that my parents knew how hard they were to make. All that sifting. The milligram margin of error. I got the sense that, more than mere baking, making sponge cakes was an art.
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What the sponge cake was to Mount Gambier, however, it certainly wasn’t to the big smoke. Indeed, in the decade that I have lived away from home in big cities, I’m not sure I’ve even seen a piece of sponge. What I have seen, coming and going in their turn, are novelties, fads and other pretenders to the crown. Right now it’s macarons that are ubiquitous in an almost scary way. Where did they all come from? Walk through any shopping centre in any big city and I’ll bet you a shiny new dollar that someone with a tray of macarons is going to offer you one. It will probably be Nutella flavoured.

Read the full article in The Weekend Australian.