Yesterday, we hopped from one birthday to another. A friend’s sons first birthday party at Akbar in Edison, which contrary to what I’d heard, had not so tasty food. A sunny afternoon and an improvised al fresco lunching there with the usual group to beat the busy hall indoors was a good way to spend time with the kids there.
The ride to and from home was about 50 minutes each way. After coming home, I baked a cake for the next birthday of a friend at his place. I had some mango cream that if whipped that fell flat. I used that as the base and then roughly went ahead with the proportions, pretty much. So with two cups of the mango cream, I used two cups of all purpose flour, four teaspoons of baking powder and over two teaspoons of baking soda. I think I over did the baking soda or powder, because my bundt cake later rose and fell flat. That hasn’t happened to me in a while, so I’m guessing that might be the reason.
I added more sugar and oil, just based on my estimates and knowledge of cooking and baking. The sugar turned out fine. It was just the cake falling a little, not completely fat.
The result was a soft, crumbly and moist texture inside and a crisp bottom. I didn’t get a photo of the cut cake (because I was too shy) and not everyone knows of my blog for me to get that photo of a cut cake without fielding questions.
So the cake was cut at this friend’s place where we ate dinner too – some good biryani and malai kofta from Karma Cafe and some appetizers from Amiya.
A god time here and we went to this friend’s place for his wife’s birthday. I say this because I don’t want to call his wife a friend any more. You give them a few chances, and then you go on, right? I’ll be moving on. Before I do, here’s what happened.
I was trying to make small talk with this friend’s wife, M. While doing so, I mentioned genuinely, “She looks so cute with her long hair,” referring to baby girl. To that, M made a face retorted, “So that’s good. Not like a tom boy, right.” Caught a little off-guard, I had a question mark on my face. She’s not grown-up enough to apologize but went on saying, “I mean the joke is on me. Other people keep telling me that I dress her up like a tom boy.”
I take it that she’s heard a lot of that from other people. But if I haven’t had that conversation with her ever, did that warrant this behavior? Methinks, not. My small t talk will be smaller and limited to hello(s) and bye(s) with her. Like two other people.