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Lire & STYLE.

 

Lazy Daisy Duff a.k.a. Sad Cake

lasty, simple
everyday recipe

Sophie
Isbister
_ Life & Style

lifeandstyle@theotherpress.ca

 

hat do you eat when you
invite someone over for
tea?

In the past (think 19th
century), homemakers were
trained to be able to whip up
a pound cake as soon as they
caught wind that a neighbour
would be stopping by. Their
pantries at the ready, and
perhaps even already containing
an array of baked goods, people
of yore were always prepared
with a carb- and sugar-laden
confection to put down on the
table.

These days, I think the norm
is to plunk down a bowl of
stale pretzels, if anything, when
entertaining—or perhaps to not
even entertain at all. Baking
for friends, family, and even
acquaintances seems to be a lost
art. Or at least it was for me,
until my former roommate and
current bestie taught me this
one, super simple cake recipe
that takes about five minutes to
prepare, 35 minutes to bake, and
30 seconds to gobble up.

My friend introduced this
cake as Lazy Daisy Duff, but
over the years that I’ve made
it, I’ve given it several names.
Morning Cake when I have
it for breakfast, Christmas
Morning Cake when I delight

my family with it on December
25, and Sad Cake, as in the
case of the 2011 federal election
when, so distraught by the
looming Conservative majority
government, all I could think
to do was hastily assemble this
cake through tear-stained eyes.

So, dear reader, if you like
cake for breakfast, if you like
crying, and especially if you like
impressing folks over tea and
study dates, read on!

Sad Cake, simply put, is a
plain cake made of butter, cake
stuff, and fruit. Any fruit really.
And not even butter—you can
use margarine, or vegan spread.
I’ve had success adapting
this cake so it’s gluten-free.
I’ve substituted the milk for
almond milk and used myriad
combinations of fruits and nuts
as the toppings.

To make the cake, first
place the butter in your nine-
inch cake pan or cast iron pan.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees,
and put the buttered-up pan
inside. As the oven heats up,
it melts the butter, giving you
time to prepare the rest of the
ingredients.

To make the batter, simply
mix the flour, baking powder,
salt, and sugar in a mixing bowl.
Make a well in the centre, pour
the milk in, and mix until the
batter is just blended—don’t
over-mix. Depending on the
fruit topping I plan to use,

I sometimes add a pinch of
cinnamon or a teaspoon of
vanilla to my batter.

Once you have your batter
and toppings set up, take the

melted butter out of the oven.
Spoon the batter onto the butter
in little blobs. Then scatter the
fruit on top—or artfully place
it, whatever you're into. I know,
this all sounds very weird, and
your cake will look like a total
disaster when you pop it in the
oven, but have faith. Set a timer
for 35 minutes, and you will
pull out a crispy on the bottom,
fruit-covered, sweet, oozing,
and delectable breakfast /snack/
dessert.

Sad Cake

Prep time: five minutes
Bake time: 35 minutes

You will need:

1/4 cup butter, melted in
cast iron pan

1 cup flour

1/2 cup sugar

1 tablespoon baking
powder

1 teaspoon salt

2/3 cup milk

2 cups fruit, either fresh,
frozen, or canned

Topping options:
Frozen mixed berries
Canned peach slices and
frozen blackberries
Frozen raspberries, sliced
almond, and honey
drizzle

Sliced apples and sliced
pears, with cinnamon in
batter

Just plain strawberries
(pictured)

 

 

Photos courtesy of Sophie Isbister

 

Navigating the misinformation stupor-highway

(yberspace crossroads,
digital dead ends, and
heavy user traffic Jams

Clive Ramroop, Contributor

“Just because you read it in a
magazine, or see 1t on the TV screen
don’t make it factual” — Michael
Jackson, “Tabloid Junkie”

Did you ever see a Facebook
post about a common household
item alleged to cause some silent
killer illness whose symptoms
only take effect after several
months, even though you've
used that product for years and
never felt sick? Has a friend
shared an online story about

a “shocking” scandal from a

far corner of the world, even

though it was already debunked
six months ago? Have you
revisited a Wikipedia entry and
noticed that someone had edited
its content with a different slant
from the last time you read it?
For two decades, the
worldwide web has allowed
the public to access and
share inconceivable riches of
information faster than anything
sci-fi authors imagined 50 years
ago. Wiki-style websites have
replaced library catalogues
and encyclopedias. A phone
smaller than an audio cassette
(ask your parents if you’ve
never seen one) can store digital
entertainment content whose
physical formats could fill a
living room. It’s as startlingly
easy to upload information as it
is to find it; users can not only
find, but also broadcast what
they want. The Internet has

allowed users to become their
own independent reporters on
any topic they want.

But therein lies a problem.
Though technology is constantly
developing in its functional
efficiency, those of us who use
that technology aren’t quite as
infallible. While many make
the effort to make sure their
messages are truthful, there’s
a great deal of content in this
“information superhighway”
that is inaccurate, misleading,
or downright fraudulent. Some
of it is deliberately false, with
malicious intent. But sometimes
Internet hoaxes that feel
legitimate can spread so far that
a duped friend may pass it on,
believing its authenticity.

This has evolved from
“Forward this email to everyone
in your address book” to “If
you have a heart, share this

post on your Timeline.” In our
constantly plugged-in society,
it’s mindlessly easy to pass on
anything—truth or crap—to
vast chunks of the population
with just the click of a mouse
or a tap on a touch screen. All
it takes is enough unwitting
users innocently going about
their digital lives without a visit
to Snopes.com, and stories like
Jackie Chan’s alleged death can
spread faster than a wildfire in
a rainless forest, and even linger
in cyberspace for months after
the story has been disproved.
The Internet has pretty
much democratized the
spreading of awareness on
issues, a domain once exclusive
to corporate news media. Today,
almost anyone with a little
cyberspace- or HTML-knowhow
can make their own websites
to sound off on anything. But

just as the mainstream press is
prone to sensationalizing stories
to sell copies or draw ratings,
we “normal folk” don’t always
exercise objectivity in our online
words or critical thinking in our
digital consumption.

How often have you said,
“I read about topic X on the
Internet,” compared to how
often you've read further? The
webpage you visited may have
simply quoted a story from
another site without suspecting
it was an Onion wannabe.
Even with “news” travelling
the wires at the speed of light,
we conduits of this “news” still
have work to do if we expect our
amateur journalistic integrity
to go beyond the days of “Paul
McCartney is Dead.” (Ask your
grandparents about that one.)

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