TOTTENHAM CAKE

No cake on commission has in the history of this world, or another, ever been as accurately timely and fit for purpose as Tottenham Cake.

It’s only an insignificant detail that I am located a whole eleven and a half miles away from Tottenham and, even though it would be a wonderfully creative thing to do, I don’t plan on re-branding this as Peckham Cake or Warwick Gardens Cake and selling it for one penny per square at Rye Lane Market (I do it for the glory); or that I may or may not have had to find a vegan way around an upsetting amount of eggs called for in the original recipe and more or less liberally replaced obscure ingredients such as mulberry juice with inferior modern-day placeholders that go under the name of Ribena (sorry Friends); because as I found myself floating right in the middle of another teacup of stormy weather (I’m only small you see) and managed not to turn into a cute, or trendy, version of a muse of Millais’s in the very unpleasant process of splashing from one shore through to the other, it’s only with the most-childish-ever-childish children’s cake that I can pay adequate tribute to all those not-so-grown-up things that have been swimming quietly beside me easing the pain.

So one square of my Tottenham Cake goes to having cake for dinner and sometimes lunch and sometimes both; one goes to dinosaur parks; one to stuffed toys (and having a higher opinion of them than humans); one to drawing badgers; one to running around the office like a squirrel on acid; one to Christmas; one to buying useless things because there’s a bear on the packaging and it’s wearing a sailor outfit; one to choosing birthday cards three months in advance; one to crying; one to touching everything; one to baby teeth, flowery dresses, drooly dogs, hair bows, lollies; and one to my dear, dear Orphanage, that since that one sunny Saturday afternoon has been my refuge and burrow and baking laboratory and realm and source of a thousand stories, and a Little Match Girl who’s run away from home really couldn’t live anywhere else.

And if there’s a baker’s-dozen-th piece of my Tottenham Cake, I’d like to have it; because, over Troubador’s and black cabs and members clubs and conference calls and Boys Who also Never Grew Up, I’ll be happy to pick a square of sugary sponge cake covered in pink icing.

TOTTENHAM CAKE

Adapted from Peter Brown’s recipe

200ml (3/4 cup + 1 tablespoon) soya milk

1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon cider vinegar

170g (3/4 cup) margarine

120g (1/2 cup) sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

225g (2 cups) self-raising flour

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

1/8 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons soya milk

Coating:

1 tablespoon icing sugar

2 tablespoons hot water

Icing:

120g (1 cup) icing sugar

2 tablespoons blackcurrant juice

Preheat oven to 150°C (300°F) and line a 15cm/6” square tin or 18cm/7” round tin with baking paper. Start by preparing the vegan buttermilk – mix soya milk with vinegar and leave for a few minutes to curdle. In the meantime beat together margarine, sugar and vanilla extract until light and fluffy. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda and salt. Combine buttermilk and margarine mixture, then add to the dry ingredients and mix until just combined. Lastly fold in the extra milk to have a pourable batter. Pour the mixture into the prepared tin and bake for 40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean. Leave on a cooling rack for about 10 minutes, then remove from the tin.

Next prepare the coating mixture – mix icing sugar and hot water, then pour on the cake and allow to soak in.
For the icing, simply mix icing sugar and blackcurrant juice until you get a smooth, thick glaze. Pour over the top and leave to set, then cut into squares and you’re all ready for Tottenham Cake Tuesday (or Sunday, or Monday, or any day really).