Yellow

Some painters transform the sun into a yellow spot, others transform a yellow spot into the sun.
~ Pablo Picasso

This evening, I turned up the music and turned down the lights, to make a cake. It was a two-layer coconut milk and lemon curd cake with buttercream frosting and toasted dessicated coconut, if you’re curious about what cake it was. I based it loosely on this recipe.

Everything was so yellow today. The sunlight streaming in through the window. The mixing bowl. The butter. The lights in the oven. The lemon curd.

I put on Angus & Julia Stone’s “Down the Way” album (a birthday gift my friends Em and Claire sent to me in the post – perfect songs to bake to), and baked as the sun skipped away and the yellow in the kitchen sighed and waned.

I didn’t switch on the lights till it got so dark I couldn’t read the words on the sugar packet.

I discovered how to make an impromptu popcorn machine (with too-cold butter, sugar and a crazy electric whisk) and fell into the familiar fragrance of coconut milk, which reminded me of another home.

The CD finished just as the buttercream frosting came together.

I retrieved the jar of lemon curd from the fridge (Mom’s homemade curd), then smiled as I saw still more yellow – Fran’s rubber gloves by the sink! The colour of rubber duckies.

Struggled a bit with the icing – making things look pretty isn’t my forte! ;-)

The cake is adequate, I wouldn’t venture to describe it further. But I so enjoyed the process of watching it come to be – yellow beginnings, messy endings and all – that I am only a *tiny* bit sad about the fact that it doesn’t taste more fabulous.