Embraced my inner archaeologist at mom's place in India for some old-school baking! The cake pan was as ancient as me—had to gauge its thickness, like a culinary archaeologist on a mission. Found a pan with sand underneath, because apparently, slow baking in an archaeological pan is the secret to out-of-this-world cakes.
No fancy gadgets here—mom misplaced them all. So, opened a pineapple can with a knife and 'latney/belan' for perforations. Connected the dots, plonked ingredients, turned on the gas, and entered the waiting game. No timer, just a guessing game like a culinary gambler!
Winter in Pune called for warm custard, but no Devon custard cartons in sight. Back to basics—corner shop, brown and polson custard powder. The vanilla aroma was a time-traveling ticket to childhood. They say aromas have memories—couldn't agree more.
Baking and assembling took ages, but the time spent was a priceless journey in a culinary time machine. Long live our "jugadoo spirit"/—because sometimes, the olden ways are the tastiest ways!
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