The Chronicle of Peyo's Pineapple Upside Down Cake

First of all, let me clarify that although the title of this post indicate a unique chronicle of this thing called Pineapple Upside Down Cake, in truth, the subject can really be replaced with an X variable, where X is any baking goodies that I have put into existence in this world. (*)

Having clarified that, let me begin the tale. It begins with a moment of boredom at work, followed by the act of browsing the army of sites and blogs that I have kept handy for this very reason. Since I was feeling hungry and trying to refuse the impulse of junk food consumption (always a losing war), I tried to suppress the hunger pangs by looking around some food blogs (now you see why). My favorite food blog has always been simplyrecipes, and while I was there, I found the recipe for this Pineapple Upside Down Cake. There were many comments on it which registered to mind as a worthy recipe to try.

On the weekly grocery to Bonnet (the bestest grocery store ever), self would usually boldly march ahead and buy the ingredients for the cake using only her memory as guidance. Self ended up buying a Pineapple.

Next would be the brewing step. During this step I would brew enough will and motivation to actually move self's behind from the comfort of bed and bake the cake. This step varies in length and duration, sometimes it would take weeks or months or years, but for this particular instance, the process was accelerated to only a mere week, all thanks to the help of dearest mother and her progressively vile questioning as to why there is a pineapple inside her fridge and would someone please do anything with it before it gets rotten?!?

It was Saturday evening, the weather seemed permissible for baking, I checked the recipe again and realized that I was still lacking few necessary ingredients. Another drive to Bonnet was a must. The trip left me tired and in need of rest. I spent the night watching movie with friends and decided to hit the bed early to prepare for the long day ahead.

Sunday morning, skipping church, I felt happy and energized. I went down to the kitchen, played Lou Reed and started preparing all of the ingredients. This is probably my most favorite part of the process, I love listening to the music while doing busywork. My mind would drift back and forth between the music, the lyrics, and how many mL 3/4 cup is. This works best in the kitchen and doesn't work at all at work, what's with the yelling from the next desk asking me to turn down the crappy music.

Once I get to the part of cutting the pineapple, I realized that the fellow has decided to give up waiting on me and move on with its decomposition process. Need to hide evidence from mother!!, was all I could think of. And thus, self again bought a pineapple at Bonnet. Returning home, mother was already back from church. I tip toed my way to place the pineapple in the fridge and was thankfully not caught in the act. Success!!

Not long after, mother ordered me to drive her around to do some errands. That's mother, never knowing the definition of rest, her joy comes when she can cross an item from her never ending to do list.

After errands, lunch, a nap and a movie, I finally ready to make the cake. It's Grace Potter and the Nocturnals time now, what a great voice. The caramel making process was fun and bubbly and after few whisk, mix and blend, I dumped everything in the pan, shoved it in the oven, and squatted in front of the oven, eagerly try to notice every tiny bit details of the cake's progress to bloom and its color transformation to the beautiful golden brown.

About 15 minutes later, realizing that my static squatting position didn't exactly look elegant nor lady like (instead, chimpanze like), I dragged a chair, sat next to the oven, and tried my best to glue my inquisitive staring to what looks like a jumble of letters in my book. During this time is when I noticed how gigantic the cake is and how it doesn't bode well with the fact that our household occupants are not particularly fond of dessert. I hope the cake turns out good, cause I sure need to give this thing to other people, I prayed. Yes, I pray a sincere prayer too sometimes.

As I placed the pineapple upside down cake to the plate and observed the gloriously amber colored caramel topping, I felt horrified knowing that this is going to be one obscenely sweet cake. I sliced a small slice and gave father and mother a test.

Me: Is it good, papa?
Father: Good! *with the nod of approval that I love*
Me: Mother?
Mother: Uhm, how exactly does this cake suppose to taste like?
Me: Well mother, my assumption is ... exactly as you taste it.
Mother: It's ... good. Very moist ... and sweet. Like the cakes at the hotel.
Me: You mean the ones that you dislike because you can smell and taste the milk? The ones that you are afraid to eat because of the huge sugar, butter, and dairy content in it? (**)
Mother: Yeah *grin*
Me: Right, I tried to tone down the sweetness, but it's also still way too sweet for me to.

Total household consumption roughly amounted to 2 small slices and a bite. We ended up distributed the rest to my 2 aunts, a friend, and Bik Yah and the gang.

Bik Yah then said, Goodness, why did you bake the cake if you're not going to eat it. You might as well had a nap. An astute point as always. Who knows? It's possibly just to witness those magical moment when the ugly dough turns into a beautiful cake. Or, it's just an excuse so I can hum a few songs in the kitchen.



(*): The formula in the beginning isn't complete. There is an exception to the rule when X = Y, where Y is my Achilles heels, my Kryptonite, also called the sinfully awesomelicious chocolate chip cookies.

(**): Mother may claim that she doesn't like dessert or any dairy products, but she sure can chug down ice cream or any chocolate dessert.