Bitchin’ Victoria Fucking Sponge

Good afternoon – this post is late I know, I thought I had published it but evidently I had a fucking spaz and only saved it as a draft. The titles of my posts now have to contain swearwords because barely anyone reads this fucking blog and there was a spike in followers after my Motherfucking Marble Cake post.

Anyway.

I’ve had a few requests at work for a victoria sponge. Now, if there is a basic bitch of the baking world, this is it. I don’t care how patriotic you are or how much you want to bum the monarchy, a victoria sponge is fucking dull and I don’t know why it’s so celebrated.

I figured I’d just get it out the way because I know it’s a pretty easy bake and I was fucking busy at the weekend with the shopping and laundry because apparently I live in the fucking 50’s. Whatever.

The recipe from the professionals comes from the motherfucking Hairy Bikers. I have used them before but I can’t for the fucking life of me remember when and I’m not about to look through my old posts to find them. Now, when you google ‘victoria sponge recipe’, one of the first things you’ll see is a recipe from Mary Berry. I kinda feel like some readers will want to burn me at the stake for not using old Bezza’s recipe but I have used her like 3 times already so someone else needs the spotlight.

The other recipe comes from allrecipes.co.uk, who came that their victoria sponge is ‘lush’. Taffy wankers.

allingres

The Hairy Bikers

ingres1I started with the hairy bastards because fuck it why not. I gathered the ingredients, which included cinnamon for some reason far beyond my fucking comprehension. When the fuck have you ever eaten a VS with bloody CINNAMON in it?? I weighed out all the ingredients because I’m organised as fuck, and preheated the Fucking Incinerator (minus 20 degrees).

As a nod of respect to Mary Berry, I used her greasing technique for the cake tins – butter it, paper it, butter it again. I set the tins aside and grabbed the whisks. I beat the shit into the sugar and butter, creating a myocardial-infarction-inducing mix of delicious fat and calories. The Bikers (whose names I don’t know and probably wont research) stipulated mix 1.1that 5 minutes was the optimum time for beating so I set the timer and let the whisks do the hard work. The result was certainly a paler mix than I normally get so I assumed that meant it was magic and my cake couldn’t fail. I beat in the eggs, one at a time…another thing beyond my comprehension but I followed the instructions. They told me that if the mix curdled, I could save it by adding in some flour…that’s great but what does a curdled cake batter even fucking look like? I threw in a tablespoon of flour anyway just to make sure, beat in the vanilla extract, then folded in the rest of the flour.

mic i n1

I poured the boring, pale mix into the cake tins and hurled them into the Fucking Incinerator™ and set the timer for 20 minutes (10 minutes less than recommended). I would normally at this point have a glass of wine to myself but I’m doing this fucking horrible diet at the moment so alcohol is off the table. Instead I put the laundry in the tumble dryer and considered killing myself because 15 year old me would slap 23 year old me if she knew that I spend half my life cooking and cleaning.

I did also make a start on the buttercream. Basic shit – mix the icing sugar, water, butter, icing1and cinnamon in. It was only a teaspoon of the spice and I couldn’t really tell it was in there, but it felt so wrong. This only took like 5 minutes but as I don’t have a standalone mixer yet, the icing sugar obviously went everywhere when I plunged the whisks in. I covered the mix and put the bowl in the fridge, then started to clean up what now looked like Charlie Sheen’s bedside table.

crack

The timer went off and I opened the door of the FI. Only a 4/10 on the smoke scale, which I take as a success. The cakes were most definitely done, so I slid them out and let them cool. After they were no longer so hot you could barbecue a burger on them, I started to slather on the buttercream. I then spread the raspberry jam on top of that. I took one of the cakes and carefully went to place it on top of the other….and IT FUCKING SPLIT IN HALF. Like I shit you not the thing just split no matter how careful I was with it. Maybe some icing sugar would help to hide it….

….no, it didn’t. Balls.

AllRecipes.co.uk

ingres2

After I got over the rage with the intensity of a thousand suns, I got my shit together and cracked on with the other cake. Same shit, different measurements. The steps were near on the exact same as The Bikers’, but it didn’t tell me to beat the butter and sugar for 5 minutes so I just whazzed them until it looked combined. In went the eggs, one at a time, and then the flour. This recipe didn’t call for vanilla in the sponge mix, which I thought would lead to an even more boring and basic sponge.

mix 2.2

I poured this mix, which certainly seemed runnier, into my well greased cake tins and threw those into the FI.

I know this part isn’t the most detailed but there’s nothing I could say that would be any fucking different to the Bikers’ recipe.

mixin2

Again, whilst the cakes were baking, I made the buttercream. This time minus the cinnamon, but add some vanilla. The recipe didn’t actually call for buttercream, in fact it asked for whipped cream. But I am not a savage so I made just a run of the mill buttercream. Simple, but 234839x better than emptying a can of whipped cream onto the cake. There’s only one place N2O icing2should go, and that’s into your lungs when you’re 17 at a house party and it’s the first time you’ve dabbled in anything remotely close to actual drugs.

I heard the familiar sound of the timer, and the FI’s door was opened…a 7/10 on the smoke scale – certainly more than the Biker’s cake but not to the extent where the fire alarms were triggered (I really need to remove the fucking batteries from those cunts).

After they had had ample time to cool, I spread on the cream and jam and sandwiched the cakes together. Bada-bing, bada-boom.

outoven

I set this cake to the side whilst I got on with clearing away the clutter, planning dinner, and making sure my personality was bright and cheery, ready for the return of my husband who had been away at work all day whilst I looked after our 2 children*

The Comparison

 

compare 2compare 1

You can see a fair few differences in these twatting sponges – obviously, one has a split wider than Jonah Hill’s arse crack down the middle. The other is a bit pale and deflated in comparison to the arse-cake. Both of them looked fucking boring. A victoria sponge truly is the cake that your 65 year old neighbour you invite only as a courtesy to your macmillan coffee morning would bring. “For fuck’s sake, Brenda, I didn’t think you’d actually come but you have and you bought a cake that no one wants to eat, partially because it tastes like shite and partially because we’ve seen the state of your kitchen”.

Taste tester Lee actually put some effort into his adjectives this week, and told me that both cakes were quite dry (that could well be the FI’s fault), however the AllRecipes cake was less so. He couldn’t tell there was cinnamon in the Biker’s cake either. Overall, his favourite was the AllRecipes cake. Initially, he guessed wrong when figuring out which cake was which. I could easily have bought a Sainsbury’s basics sponge and have him compare that but I feel I would have been stuck with 3 full size cakes that no one would eat.

The Ratings

The Hairy Bikers

  • Difficulty: 6/10 – the beating was the most strenuous task.
  • Presentation: -127/10 – who wants to eat an arse-crack cake?
  • Taste: 5/10 – fucking average.

AllRecipes.co.uk

  • Difficulty: 3/10 – far less effort involved.
  • Presentation: 6/10 – not bad, could have been better.
  • Taste: 5/10 – again, fucking average.

The Final Word

Tell me these two don’t bum each other.

kers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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