Years ago when I lived in Shanghai, my parents and I would go to the
Westin hotel for lunch. There weren't a lot of dimsum restaurants back then and
a twenty minute taxi ride wasn’t too bad. Besides, this place was pretty
decent, there was good service, velvet curtains that hung from the tall
windows, soft piano music played in the background, and the manager came by our table to exchange pleasantries. Of course, what kept us
going back were the juicy shrimp dumplings, steamed BBQ pork buns, and spare ribs with black
bean sauce that the chef consistently pumped out every time.
After lunch, we walked down to the bakery on the second floor and pondered over thick crusty loafs of rye, sourdough breads, and baguettes, some dressed in sesame seeds or in a flurry of sunflower and poppy seeds, or just baring it all naked. On the other side of the room were homemade chocolates, heaping boxes of truffles for Valentine's day, chocolate bunnies wrapped in pink, yellow, and baby blue foil for Easter, plus little packets of orangettes, chocolate-covered mint patties and chocolate-covered almonds perfect for gifts.
There was also a table teeming with quickbreads, though they might as well have been called cakes, given the generous ratio of butter to flour. There was coconut bread, banana bread, pound cake, carefully arranged on display and each wrapped in cellophane, adorned with a gold label, tied with blue ribbons curled at the end like ringlets. We usually took home the marble cake, a heavy, nine-inch loaf with a gorgeous golden colour, an irregular crack running down the middle, and the mysterious curves of vanilla and chocolate that hypnotized me on the ride home.
I don't remember how it tasted, but I do recall my mom
cutting me a piece for breakfast. Really, that's all I had. I hated milk back then, yogurt was out of the question, I didn't even eat fruit unless it was peeled for me (I'm a wee bit spoiled). The nutritional
content of my morning meals were the least of my mom's concerns back then-- time was
far more important. School mornings were a mad dash, she had to rouse me awake
at six am, make sure I didn't 'accidentally' crawl back under the warm covers when I was supposed to get dressed, then she had to put breakfast on the table and usher me to the bus stop lest I miss it and shamelessly cab it to school,
wasting $17 (a hefty sum in China).
The recipe is pretty simple: A basic white cake mix is
prepared, chocolate added to some reserved batter, and then silky scoops
of vanilla and chocolate batter are dumped into the loaf pan like a checkerboard. The
best part is the twisting and twirling of the two flavors; a moment to pretend
to be a famous artist, using a knife to swirl the batters all around the pan…Et
viola! An edible impressionist cake masterpiece!
My momlikes loves LURRRRVES marble cake. She's been urging me to make this cake whenever she spots me rolling up my sleeves and take out the flour the pantry. So being the awesome (albeit sometimes spoiled) daughter that I am, I baked this cake not once, but twice in a week. Once for her birthday celebration with her friends and a second time for her real birthday. You would make this cake everyday if you could. The cake is velvelty smooth, buttery and rich, yet not too heavy that it fills you with regret, in fact, just one slice is enough to satisfy the sweet tooth that never seems to go away.
My mom
