The other day (1st June. to be exact.), my dad found a little something between the pages of the newspaper that he'd like to try; a butter cake recipe. When he said 'I wanted to try it', he meant 'I will drag my son down to the kitchen to help me'. So after a week of delays, he finally dragged me into the kitchen, and got started.
Here are the ingredients you are gonna need:
- 250g butter
- 210g castor sugar
- 4 eggs
- 1 teaspoon vanilla essence
- 200g self-raising flour, sifted with 1/2 teaspoon salt, and
- 4 tablespoon fresh UHT milk
1) Grease and line a 20cm cake tin with greased greaseproof paper. Preheat ze oven to 170° C.
|It said to do it first, but we put it last on ze list. Yeah, we're rulebreakers, and proud of it.|
Plus, I dunno why the empty tin was in there.
2) Cream the butter and sugar until light and creamy. One way to make sure that it's creamy (Because I didn't know how to recognize it, even when I'm facing it.) is that the butter does not stick to the whisk.
3) Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition until mixture is light and creamy. Than add the essence.
4) Fold in sifted flour gradually to mix, before finally adding the milk. Mix until well combined.
|Yup, that's well combined alright. I guess. Creamy yellow mess.|
As you can see below, my dearest father did not listen to his son's constant disagreeing mumbles. Let's see what happens...
|Not shallow enough, dad. Not shallow enough.|
6) Bake in pre-heated oven for 55-60 minutes or until cooked through when tested with a skewer.
Optional Waiting Activities:
- Dance to a song (In my case, Bruno Mar's 'Treasure)
- Show dancing moves to mother. (This is a risky activity, as it can cause the mother to start her lecture on colleges and the importance of education. This will depend on the attitude of mothers.)
- Let sofa swallow you into comfort as you watch the latest episode of your fave TV show
- Watch curiously at the oven as the tin spins around for the hour.
And we're done. :) As I proceeded to slice the cake, my baby bro pointed out how familiar it seemed to him. I stared at the cake, slowly realising the likeness of the cake.
|Like a burnt pimply pellet-eating, ghost-chomping arcade character.|