MAD COW

So, after my blog hiatus, I mentioned that there have been quite a few things going on in my life at the moment, some of which I couldn’t reveal until the time was appropriate.

Well, for one of them, the time is now.

For a long, long time, I’ve been working on an idea.  A simple idea, and one that I believe I would thoroughly enjoy.

I’ve started up my own little business (if you would call it that) selling baked goods at some of the local markets in my region.

I love baking.  Absolutely love it.  Love it more than general cooking, I suppose.  I’m not into the whole cake decorating thing though; that doesn’t really interest me.  I just love baking.  And what I love more, is people enjoying my baking.

There’s nothing like seeing people get excited over the prospect of indulging in something sweet; something seemingly… ‘naughty’. 

It’s just a cake, but people melt when they see them.  A cake is comfort.  A cake is a promise of something tantalisingly delicious and indulgent.  A cake is home.

As a child, I remember a house full of the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked cakes.  Mum, being a member of a busy CWA Branch, would be constantly baking for functions.  Of course, you would always call into Stone Manor, and find a freshly baked cake, slice or biscuits in the cupboard, just waiting to be shared over a cup of tea.

It’s something that I’ve inherited, and most friends would attest to having the cake or biscuit boxes placed on the table in front of them when they’ve called in to a cuppa.

It’s a comfort for me, and fair to say, that my love for baking has definitely come from my mother.

However, in saying that, one thing I have not inherited, is her ability to produce a magnificent sponge.  I produce magnificent Frisbees.  Fucken stupid things. *flips bird at Frisbee sponges*

At least the chickens enjoy my failures.  And there have been a few, and not just fucken sponges either…

So, my need to bake every possibly cake recipe I come across has collided with my desire not to make the rest of my family obese from a solid diet of cake, and the result is a simple cake stall.

And the whole process behind it has been quiet involved, though extremely therapeutic.

Gone are the days of banging out a few cakes, throwing them on a trestle, and selling them to the punters.

Now, food safety standards must be met, permits must be in place, and labelling must be clear.  It’s all about ensuring that you’re getting good quality product prepared in hygienic kitchens, and I like this. 

You know I’m anal about hygiene (refer to my previous toilet blogs).  If you think I’m anal about public toilets, well that’s nothing compared to how anal I am in the kitchen.

Paper towels and bench disinfectant are my best friends, and hand sanitiser is a staple.  No surprise there, really…

It’s interesting that some markets will not let you in now unless you have your permits in place, which is a good thing for the consumer to know.

However, when I was at a market on the weekend, I was horrified to see that a local community group (who shall remain nameless), were running a sausage sizzle, and weren’t using gloves when they handled the food!  I was mortified!

When our CWA Branch does a sizzle at Bunning’s, we’re so anal about gloves and food handling!  We have to be!  It gives the customer comfort that we are operating hygienically.

Though, I don’t know what the difference is between a piece of latex covering your hands, and thoroughly washed and sanitised hands, just quietly.  However, this bit of rubber gives us all comfort, and I was shocked to see it not being used.

Though, the sausages I bought didn't give either my mother or me food poisoning, so I can’t complain.

 

Mad Cow Cakes. 

That’s me.  Fitting name, don’t you think? J  I can see those that know me well laughing at that name…. J

I went live with a Facebook page on Saturday night, after my first market.  Check it out here:

http://www.facebook.com/MadCowCakes

The next day, I was doing my second market for the weekend, a lady said ‘I recognise that name!’ and I instantly thought someone’s stolen my fucken name! Oh no!!

However, she is a friend of a friend of mine (Belinda) on Facebook, and Belinda was good enough to share the link to my Mad Cow page on her Facebook profile.  The lady at the market had seen Belinda’s post on her newsfeed, and remembered it.  When she saw my stall, she instantly recognised the name and the logo.

The page had been live for twelve hours.

A good friend of mine (Jane – the 50 Shades of Crap fan), had driven 100kms to visit me at my first stall, and bought a lumberjack cake (her fave) from me.

Throughout the day, she posted pictures on her Facebook page, the consumption of this cake.  By 7pm that night (I think), it was gone, and her last picture was the empty wrapper on a plate.

The next day, a gentleman came up to the stall, and said ‘I recognise that cake… I’ve seen it on Facebook.  I’m a friend of Jane’s.’

The power of social media.  In business today, you’d be a fool not to use it.

So, my little venture has kicked off to a successful start; by my standards and expectations, anyway.

The only thing I have to do now, is buy a gazebo that’s fucken waterproof (don’t ask) and won’t blow away at a puff of wind.  I spent Saturday getting drenched through this fucken useless canopy, and Sunday having constant, mild heart-attacks (which is seriously not good for me) because I though the fucken kite over my head was going to lift up and blow away.

I had visions of a fat chick, holding an arm load of cakes, running down the main street of a busy country down, chasing a fucken green and white gazebo, whilst a group of freeloading vultures helped themselves to the cakes and slices sitting innocently on my trestle back at the fucken market.

I will be interested to see where this journey takes me.  I’m starting off with two markets a month… who knows where it may lead.

Peace (and yummy cake eating) out.