This reworked version of earlier post as it appeared in the Herald Sun on April 28, 2010.
THE success of MasterChef Australia has a lot to answer for.
Our eldest, about to turn 10, was so taken with the croquembouche - the French profiterole arrangement that was all the go as wedding cakes somewhere between the mudcake and cupcake fad - she begged me to make one for her last birthday.
I said "no" but clearly it wasn't persuasive enough. After some cajoling, in a moment of weakness I took on the challenge.
And, let's face it, we had well and truly worked our way through the Australian Women's Weekly party cake book.
And maybe, just maybe ... spending the time trying to conjure up the culinary creation might be more fulfilling than sitting through 102 minutes of a Miley Cyrus movie.
A visit to a cooking shop had me scratching my head. The woman behind the counter said the cones to shape the creation cost $200. If I wanted to hire one I would have to travel to the other side of town and pay $80.
I mentioned I had a back-up plan - to cover a polystyrene Christmas-tree shape with foil and use long toothpicks to fasten the profiteroles. She suggested the hot caramel toffee would melt the polystyrene. Undeterred, I decided that would be my best choice.
And then I turned my attention to the profiteroles. There was no way with other commitments I was going to get time to actually make the choux pastry balls with their 16 eggs and ingredient list as long as my arm.
I went to a nearby supermarket with a bakery and asked if I could buy them without the chocolate icing. I was told this was not possible but decided I would not give up. A few days later I rang and spoke to the bakery manager who happily took an order for 32 icing-less profiteroles. I collected them in the morning, knowing the worst-case scenario was that the profiteroles had cost me a total of $16.
Once everyone was safely at the cinema, chaperoned by my bemused husband, I scurried home to undertake the croquembouche project. Affixing the profiteroles was easy enough. Making the toffee was a little tricky. How much cooking was too much?
I started the swirling process that looked so simple on the telly. At some point I decided it was finished. And, even if I do say so myself, it did look quite masterful.
The kids returned home and were excited although disappointed that I had decided it was not going to be a collaborative project. I knew I was really a MasterCheat but at least in their eyes I was a MasterChef.
Once the party pies, cocktail franks and sausage rolls were dispensed with, we decided to move on to the croq.
Alas, the kids did not really like it.
Some did not like the toffee - too sharp - others did not like the filling. Despite the disappointment, I can't say I was too surprised. After a decade of attending and hosting kids' birthday parties I have come to one basic conclusion when it comes to party cakes. The simpler the better.
The elaborate, creamed and iced numbers usually aren't eaten. I've seen parents blow $50 to $100 on these and invariably the children are so full of other party food they barely have a mouthful.
I warned Miss 10 that next time around it will be a $4 Coles mudcake.
Just remind me of that when she starts throwing words around like torte, tarte, gateau, semifreddo, pannacotta, souffle and any other fancy dessert names she picks up in coming episodes of MasterChef.
Claire Heaney is a Herald Sun business writer
