Stuck On Alaska

RECIPE FOR BAKED ALASKA

INGREDIENTS

You’ll need two quarts of vanilla ice cream.

There you have me. What’s a quart exactly?

Siri will know. I’m wondering if I haven’t become a bit too attached to “him” lately. Maybe it’s that “manly” voice. Friendly but firm, with a trace of, “If you try my patience too far, you never know what might happen.”

Promises, promises!

Hey Siri. (In my breeziest voice, but really just practicing for Ben later).

Uh huh.

WHAT IS A QUART? (Clear enunciation to avoid misunderstanding).

(Circling of an AI brain at the bottom of the phone screen while Siri comes up with a suitable response).

FINALLY.

“Here is some info about Alan A Court.”

Eh?

Not quite what I meant, but never mind.

Back to the recipe from the cookbook Ben got me as a gift. Was that a way of hinting he’d prefer the pair of us to be eating a romantic meal at home instead of going out or getting a takeout?

You can make your own or buy it from a store if you prefer.

In my case, definitely the latter. Even if it does feel a bit like cheating! Will Ben even notice? Of course, he will! HE NOTICES EVERYTHING! It doesn’t help that he’s a great cook, as well as a scientist. Beats me what he sees in me, but my therapist keeps telling me I need to value myself more.

On a separate note: I wonder why opposites attract. I mean why have I always been attracted to guys who are nothing like me? Maybe don’t answer that one.

Egg whites for meringue.

Hmmm… Never actually made meringues before. You reach a point in life where you either have or you haven’t. The idea of separating the yolks from the whites has always struck me as a bit icky. I get an image of a chick all small and fluffy, wobbling round looking at me out of cutie eyes.

In spite of this, I’ve always been good with eggs. Ben says my omelettes are to die for, and you can’t make one without breaking a few eggs.

There’s a lot of things you can’t do without breaking a few things. The mind boggles.

I could try a different recipe. But Ben has always raved about how his mother treated him to Baked Alaska when he was a boy, etc. Not the best starting position: you can never quite match up to all those marvellous mothers of yore.

Still, in for a penny, in for a pound. I remind myself it’s all for a good cause and I just have to get cracking.

Hopefully it will be worth the effort and by the end of the evening, the pair of us will be well and truly engaged. Fingers crossed; the memory of the dish will be something we’ll talk about for years to come. It will be a case of do you remember the night when we…? Nudge nudge, wink, wink. Followed by lots of outlandish giggling.

That reminds me, I must search out that hot pink dress I’ve been saving for a special occasion and put my hair up in the butterfly clasp that looks like the one Kate Winslet wore on The Titanic—only mine’s made of plastic. Hopefully with less tragic results. Plastic fantastic! The hope is my hair won’t stay confined for long.

You will need 1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar to stabilise the meringue.

There I was thinking tartar was the stuff that gets embedded in your teeth. Either that, or it’s what they use on roads. No, hang on, that’s tarmac. Definitely something sticky. Anyway, not inappropriate. I am a bit stuck. Have been for ages. And so has he. Two friends set in our ways, terrified to step out of our individual comfort zones. Two lonely, trembling jelly hearts needing to break out of our moulds. It’s not just the meringues that need stabilising.

Salt (a pinch will enhance the flavour but won’t make the result taste too salty).

Well, we all need a bit of flavour in our lives, don’t we? A little bit of salt goes a long way.

A cup of white sugar (if you happen to have a sweet tooth).

Judging by our combined number of fillings, we both do.

Cake layer (you can use store bought white cake or make your own).

Definitely go for store-bought. It won’t be authentic, but too bad. The last time I made a cake it went all soggy in the middle. Probably not helped by the fact my daughter, Trixie, kept opening and closing the oven door to check it was alright. She’s seven and generally enjoys anything that involves making a mess! She loves helping me make cakes (fortunately her expectations are low), but this weekend she’s staying with her dad, so this one’s on me. I should have tried the recipe out on her in the first place. She’s a very accommodating little girl. Fortunately, she likes Ben, otherwise taking it further would be a no-no. She told me she finds him funny.

Ditto.

METHOD

1. Gather all the ingredients.

What does that even mean? Do I gather them up, throw them in the air and hope they land in the right place? Sounds about right.

2. Line the bottom and sides of a mixing bowl with plastic wrap.

Where in Beeton’s name will I find plastic wrap in this house? Plastic and wrap don’t exactly sound like a partnership made in heaven. All I want is to be wrapped up in him. All night.

3. Pack the softened ice cream into the bowl, then flatten the top and cover with plastic wrap.

The plastic wrap thing is already getting way out of hand.

4. Freeze until firm. (You can leave it overnight).

Why’s that in brackets? What will happen if it’s not left overnight? The more pressing question is what will I wake up to in the morning? Always a question worth asking to avoid later regrets. I often wish I’d practiced it more in life.

5. Pack the ice cream into a prepared bowl and freeze.

Pack? Are we going on a trip somewhere? Confused. I know what you’re thinking. It doesn’t take much.

6. Make the meringue.

Uh oh. Make it? This is getting serious! I know who I’d like to make it with…

How do I do that exactly, or is it better not to ask?

7. Beat the egg whites, sugar, cream of tartar, and salt into a mixing bowl until stiff peaks form.

Sounds both saucy and scary, but it might be a way to unleash the hidden dominatrix Ben’s always teasing me about. Stiff peaks? Probably best not to go there.

8. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and place cake in centre.

Eh? What’s this about parchment? Sounds like I’m going to have to delve deep here. Might be an idea to brush up on my knowledge of the history of ancient mummies and tombs somewhere along the line.

9. Remove ice cream from the freezer, discard wrap, and turn ice cream out on top of the cake.

Turn it out? At this point, I think I’m going to be adding some kind of liquor before adding the ice cream. I’m definitely going to need it.

10. Quickly spread the meringue over the ice cream, swirling in decorative patterns if required.

I wasn’t aware there was any call for decorating skills here.

11. Freeze for two hours.

Confused again. I’m really not crazy about freezing anything. The stuff in the freezer has been there way too long. Better have a clear out before Ben comes over. Not that he’s likely to check the inside of my freezer. Be a cause for concern if he does.

12. Preheat the oven to 220 degrees.

That, I can manage. Although maybe I should have cleaned the oven before cooking. I haven’t got round to replacing the bulb that stopped working.

13. Bake cake on the lowest shelf in the oven until the meringue is lightly browned and crisp. Should take between 8 and 10 minutes.

Yay. I can do that too. Maybe there’s more to me than meets the eye.

14. Slice and enjoy.

Mmm. Sounds promising. If nothing else, he’ll have plenty to get his teeth into. We’ll just have to wait and see about the rest.

Oh, and maybe this dish is best served with a large dollop of optimism as well as strawberries. It’s the season for them.

My phone buzzes on the counter.

Caught in traffic. Running ten minutes late. Feeling hungry. Ben x

Hmmm…

Getting hungrier by the minute.

I check out the Baked Alaska taking up half the freezer.

Hey, what’s the worst that can happen?

The main thing is that tonight, at least, one of us, is finally taking something out of the freezer.