The Book
of Cake is the book I should have written in the
past two weeks or so as I was once again unconsciously sliding my way to
self-sabotage, one mouthful of fried plantain at a time, and it should have
been a sacred book with an austere but not too daunting cover and
vintage-looking brownish pages because we have decided that’s in fashion this
season (even in the UK), and you would find it inside drawers in bed side tables
in hotel rooms.

In this book of cake, it is written that
it’s completely fine to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown as you spot a
metaphor being translated into a simile in a learning session guide in Brazilian
Portuguese and to take a day off work just so that you can go for lunch with
someone from work and so is to burst into tears right in the middle of Regent
Street on a Sunday afternoon because you’ll be turning thirty in a second but
your mum and dad still sponsor all your clothes and drain unblockers and maple
syrup; becauseThe Book of Cake
suggests that whatever happens, you eventually get a grip and bake your life
away and make those liquorice doughnuts that you had decided to bake on that
one night out with the other two musketeers; and put to good use the precious
liquorice root powder that your mamma hunted down for you in Italy (and
chocolate. There’s got to be chocolate); and why not, consider patenting and
marketing them as ‘Pontefract Doughnuts’ or ‘Rough Doughnuts’ or ‘David
(Francis Wilson) Doughnuts’, as they may well make you rich and famous and
people would want to own a 1% share of your baking business.

WhatThe
Book of Cake in essence teaches you, is that sometimes you’ve got to allow
yourself to help and be helped; to take two lemon sweets from the meeting room
(one for Dave); to let the boys wait in an orderly queue, although not
for unreasonably long; to pay bills and use vouchers; to treat someone with overpriced
organic pizza squares; to be treated with Indian samosas, lunch-packed especially
for your cab ride home; and to make cake for people that are all special like
that and may not even realise it; because as it turns out, sometimes you can be
quite difficult to read, kind of like a book that was never written.

The
Book of Cake was also never written (neither was The Book of James for that matter), but
if it ever will be, the very last verses would read something very pregnant and
introspective, such as,
‘Create a little bit of havoc
but then make cake
share it with loved ones
and go fix your stupid head’.
Amen.

240g (scant 2 cups) plain flour

130g (2/3 cup) unrefined caster sugar

1 tablespoon liquorice root powder

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

½ teaspoon salt

225g (1 cup) soya yoghurt or other
non-dairy yoghurt

180ml (3/4 cup) chocolate flavoured soya
milk or other non-dairy milk

90ml (1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons) sunflower
oil or other flavourless oil

White chocolate glaze:

120ml (1/2 cup) soya cream or other
non-dairy cream

150g (1 cup) chopped vegan white chocolate

Preheat the oven to 175°C (350°F) and lightly grease two doughnut tins. In
a bowl mix together flour, sugar, liquorice powder, baking powder, bicarbonate
of soda and salt. In a separate bowl, mix yoghurt, chocolate milk and oil. Add
the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients, and mix everything together with a
spoon until just combined. Spoon the mixture evenly into the doughnut tins and
bake for 15 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean.
Cool in the tins for 5 minutes, then transfer to a cooling rack. Next make the
glaze: place the cream on medium heat until it starts simmering, then
remove from the heat, add the chopped chocolate and stir until melted and well
combined. Dip the top of each doughnut into the glaze then sprinkle with
powdered or chopped liquorice sweets.