I was going to launch into a massive moaning session about how a colleague suggested baking a fucking chocolate roulade, but I have been lazy as fuck recently so I suppose it is time for me to actually put in more than 10% effort.
I didn’t even know what a bloody ‘roulade’ was until, just as luck would have it, I was watching TV today before starting the bake and up popped Paul ‘traitorous bastard’ Hollywood, making a fucking roulade! However that was still about as useless as a marzipan dildo so I did have to do some research.
Marry Motherfucking Berry
I was pleasantly surprised when I read the ingredients, as I found I only needed 6 fucking ingredients! Sweet as fuck. I already had most of them anyway so it was only a short trip to the shops for the chocolate. I sorted my shit out as I am one organised bitch, and preheated the Fucking Incinerator™. I threw some caution to the wind and kept it on the recommended temperature this week, just to see what would happen….I was obviously having some sort of fucking seizure because that was a stupid fucking idea. Anyway.
First step: Melt the chocolate chunks the ‘proper’ way….nope. In the fucking microwave ya brown bastards. After they were properly melted, I left them to the side to cool. In the meantime, I separated the eggs. I am not any fucking good at this sort of finicky shit, like I literally cannot crack an egg without shell getting all over the place. I also don’t have any sort of tool for the process of separation, so I had to use my bare hands. Ugh. I just about managed, and the yellow and white components were separated (I was going to make a Vietnam war joke but I feel like if my employer was ever to find this blog I might lose my job). I then whisked the yolks with the sugar until the mix was as pale and creamy as an anaemic girl that just moisturised, then whipped up the egg whites. I hate doing this, it’s such a boring process. Eventually, I had three prepared bowls of ingredients: melted chocolate, meringue, and sholk (my new word for sugar and yolks, clever, I fucking know). I poured the chocolate into the sholk and stirred it like a 14 year old girl stirs shit with her peers. I then mixed in a little of the egg whites, to loosen up this mix….which did not fucking work. The chocolatey mix was as thick as Hilary Duff is these days. Just trying to mix it was a nightmare. I dumped in the rest of the egg whites and tried my best to fold the shit together, but that too was a twat of a job. Finally, I had some crappy, jiggly, brown gunk (the food version of Snooki). I poured it into my newly acquired baking tray that I had previously greased and lined, and threw it into the incinerator for 20 mins. Whilst the party was kicking off in the oven, I whipped up the cream. As always, I added just a pinch of milk powder to stabilise it.
20 minutes later, the familiar smell of burning wafted through the house. I removed the tray, once I had fought through the fucking smog, and left it on the side to chill. It didn’t actually look as bad as I thought it would, but it was definitely crispy. Honestly, I had no fucking idea what it should have looked like. An hour or so later, I figured it was probably cool enough to start rolling, so I spread on the cream, dusted the paper with icing sugar, and held my breath. I have made my own sushi a few times so the process of rolling it was not unfamiliar to me, but sushi doesn’t fucking crumble at the slightest touch. I did my absolute best, rolling as it continued to fall apart. Mary bitching Berry claims that if it cracks, it means it’s a good roulade, so mine must be fucking award winning. I wrapped it tight in some baking paper and threw it in the fridge.
This was all very much the shame shit, but one less egg and the addition of instant coffee. I melted the chocolate with the water and coffee, which I thought was a risky move. Anyone who has had anything to do with an amateur chocolate fondue knows that melted chocolate and water don’t always mix well…..or at all. Things did look….nasty…..halfway through, but once I cracked the whisk out things definitely smoothed out.
I went through the painstaking task of separating the eggs, thankful that this time there were only 5 of them. I whisked everything that needed whisking, and was left with a meringue mix and some sholk. I poured the chocolate into the latter, thinking that this was going to turn out worse than Bezza’s, because the chocolate mix was definitely thicker. Things seemed pretty similar, so I stirred in a spoonful of the egg whites and the mix actually loosened up as quickly as a white girl drinking sparking rosé on a night out, celebrating her finally getting rid of ‘that bastard’. I folded in the rest of the egg whites and things were certainly more runny, so I had more hope. I poured this into my tray, again greased and lined, and threw it into the incinerator for 15mins.
The smell of burning yet again filled the air, but I don’t even flinch anymore. I sauntered, like the suave motherfucker I am, into the kitchen and opened the door. The skin melted from my facial bones. Shit was fucking smokey in there. The cake was certainly more singed than Mary’s, but it somehow looked far less crispy in general? Fuck off, I know what I mean.
After another hour, the cake was cool enough for me to spread the cream on and I mustered up the courage for another rolling session. I hate fucking rolling. However, as this sponge was far more cakey and moist, it rolled far easier. It did crack here and there, but no where near as badly as Mary’s log did.
I tightly bound it and put it in the fridge for a bit to firm up, and made dinner in the meantime. I can make a fucking delicious chinese inspired dish, honey and chilli fried chicken on rice, so I treated myself to that.
The time had come – I cut a slice from each roll.
You can see quite clearly how Mary’s is far paler and more fucked up looking. Leith’s definitely looks more rich, moist, and has a better swirl. It was also, not shockingly, far fucking easier to cut. Mary’s fell apart at the slightest pressure (that white girl drinking rosé being confronted by the sight of her ex out enjoying himself).
However, Mary’s did actually taste really chocolatey. Not as much so as Leith’s but still not fucking bad.
Taste Tester Lee Perkins gave me invaluable feeedback….”they’re alright”. Did I honestly go through the trauma of all that rolling for that?? His favourite was Leith’s, and guessed which roll belonged to who correctly; because (in his words) I always fuck up the professional recipe. Cheers.
My favourite was also Leiths’ but only by a small margin. Both of them tasted fucking awesome, but Leiths’ was just the touch more cakey than crispy. It was also far more attractive and less crumbly.
Unfortunately for the girls at work, I don’t think I’m able to transport Mary’s roulade for fear of it falling apart, and I’m certainly not sacrificing Leiths’ log by taking it to work and watching it disappear in 4 minutes….so I’ll be keeping both of them this week 🙂 let that be a fucking lesson to you Phip, if you ask for something tricky, it might not make it to work (I will compensate you with a cupcake or some shit).
Mary ‘mothafucka’ Berry
- Difficulty: 8/10 (due to the separating and rolling)
- Presentation: 3/10 (yeah)
- Taste: 8/10 (if only it was slightly more moist)
- Difficulty: 6/10 (slightly easier to roll, still not for beginners)
- Presentation: 8/10 (far more impressive, but the icing sugar sort of melted into the cake)
- Taste: 9/10 (pretty fucking good)
The Final Word
Actually listen to the song if you haven’t heard it before, Oasis were far more than just ‘Wonderwall’