A description of a cake

Just to practice on evolving my language to a wider vocabulary.

You could hear the rusten ricketing of the pan as it was carefully taken out of the old wooden stove.
Instantly the sensation of rich, flowing and full scents filled the air. The kitchen itself was damp, and the chefs stood around the cake, slowly easing it out of its pan and on to a round, shiny glass plate.

With stupefying expertise and adroitness one of them grabbed a whisk, and started to beat and cudgel a large portion of golden, luscious and rich caramel fudge. The velvety frosting was folded over and over, leaving small traces of where it before had been folded, and ever so slowly - going paler. Every now and then he lifted the whisk and the flowing, silky contents of the bowl slowly let go of the whisk and formed white, sharp tops, like a chain of snowy mountains.

Another chef rushed through the damp kitchen and grabbed hold of the bowl filled with wondrous little mountains and carried it over to the cake. With a spatula a third chef started to spread and unfold the meringued and heavy cream over the golden brown cake, parts of the tantalizing and appealing frosting partly melting into the cake.

As the savory and delicious cake was tucked away under the angelic cream, another three chefs were pouring a shiny and generous portion of melted dark chocolate on to a marble cutting board. Quickly they cut out shapes of leaves and branches, even tiny little berries, and flowers that looked so real, you would nearly lean over and try to smell them if you were there.
Once again a flow of scents gently caressed the nostrils of the present as candied lemon and strawberry was taken out from the blazing and flickering oven.
At another corner, a tray of muffins was being covered in a thin layer of coconut icing, the exotic flavour seemingly creating a different atmosphere.

A last, fat chef took hold of the cooled chocolate foliage and arranged it around on the cake, filling in any gaps with candied lemon and sugar-covered strawberries.
They all knew very well, because things went to a sudden still, steam stopped to fume, water stopped to foam, glowing embers stopped to smoke, and the kitchen stopped to clatter. The sensation of rich and attractive cake slowly filled the silenced room, like a carpet of pure perfection.

they had in fact made, this very indefectible, faultless, pure, paradisiacal, absolute and perfect cake.


Sigrid said...


Audun said...

Why couldn't I have gotten that caek instead? :-(

And Sigrid, your job is to be the bossy elder sister, and now you're just giving compliments!

Now that's what I call sloppy.

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