Heat had left through an unknown gap in the seal at the top of the door, so old was the oven. The batter rose quickly, faster at one end than the other. Wedge shaped and burnt, smouldering at the ridge. The base, flat, unrisen, and biscuity. My last cake. That day I stopped baking. I hung up my oven gloves. It´s true. I am confident with sauces, stews, stocks, pot roasts, yes.
Brilliant Louis! Poetry in motion! Well done! 👏👏xx
Amazing !!! I can actually smell that cake myself !……. … very clever ❤️
Brilliant Louis! Poetry in motion! Well done! 👏👏xx