Madcap Adventures and Distracting Hijinx

Sri Lankan Love Cake FTW

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So the QWC Bake-off is over and I’m pleased to report that my shameless pandering to the internet has succeeded in securing me first place in the fund-raising. Net result: I get myself a hat of awesome and you guys get the recipe for kick-ass Sri Lankan Love Cake *and* my inevitable humiliation via the medium of dance and the internet (Assuming, of course, the chap who gets to decide the music for said dance actually makes up his mind at some point. At the moment he’s wavering between having me dance to All the Single Ladies and having me do the opening cheer sequence from Bring It On).

I should really point out that the real winner here is Pancreatic Cancer Research, on account of the fact that our bake-off raised over $1,400 in a two-week period. Near as we can tell, you guys are responsible for a good $630 of that number, give or take a few donations that didn’t come in with a vote. Which is to say, you guys UTTERLY FREAKIN’ ROCK and it’ll be my pleasure to humiliate myself for your entertainment.

But that’s in a week or so, depending on how long it takes for the logistics to get worked out. For now, I share this:

SRI LANKAN LOVE CAKE WITH HONEY-GINGER CREAM

Picture courtesy of Bake-Off Organizer Aimee Lindorff

To make this, you’re going to need the following:

Half a dozen eggs.
500 grams of Castor Sugar
150 grams of unsalted butter
enough honey to make both cake and cream
1 teaspoon of vanilla essence, if you’re me and you can’t be arsed trying to track down rosewater (replace this with two tablespoons of rosewater if you want to get all authentic)
1 lime
1 teaspoon grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
250g raw cashews, chopped into tiny bits of cashew-rubble
250g semolina
300 ml of Double Cream
1 tablespoon of grated ginger

The things you’ve gotta do:

Okay, strap yourselves in, ’cause I don’t do the cake thing often and when I do engage in a spot of baking, I largely do so with the intention of making something that’s relatively mind-blowing in its awesomeness. Sure, I’ll admit, I fail at that *a lot*, but it’s the effort that matters in this instance, and occasionally the aftermath when you actually take the food and serve it to people. What I’m trying to say is this: I’m a long way from being a kitchen ninja, but I can manage this cake if I’m okay with making a mess, and it’s a cake that’s designed to impress when people don’t expect you to have mad baking skills.

Step One: find an oven someone’s willing to let you use and crank the thing to about 150 degrees. I’m working in Celsius here, ’cause that’s how Australian’s roll; if your oven is working in Fahrenheit or some other weird measurement, hit the internets and find the appropriate conversions.

Step Two: Bung the eggs and the sugar in a mixing bowl and generally BEAT THE HOLY HELL OUT OF IT. Generally I do this with electric beaters and mixers and stuff, but history suggests you can do it by hand if you’re willing to put the work into it. Keep going until the mixture is kinda pale and you don’t see things that are obviously egg yolks or bits of un-mixed sugar in the mixture.

Step Three: Add butter, 60 milometers of honey, nutmeg, cardamon, and your vanilla essence. Track down a grater and zest the hell out of your lime. Seriously, go at it until you’ve transformed the skin of the lime into something like finely grated cheese, then toss the grated lime-skin into the mixture. Yes, I’ve put more effort into this step than is really necessary. What can I say – zesting the lime is traditionally my favourite part of the process, largely cause it’s an excuse to use one of these bad-boys, and my fine-grain hand-grater is, like, my third-favourite kitchen utensil.

So yeah, zest your lime and add the zest to the mixture. Do whatever the hell you want with the rest of the lime – you’re not going to need it here. I recommend finding some post-cake coctail that needs a dash of lime-juice, but that’s just me.

Step Four: Mix the hell out of everything you’ve just thrown into the bowl.

Step Five: If you’re using the electric mixture, it’s time to abandon it and do the next few steps by hand, ’cause it’s time to throw in your chopped cashews and you generally want them to be somewhat-chunk-like rather than processed into fine dust. Do the same with the semolina once you’re done mixing in the cashews. Mix well.

Step Six: Put some greased baking paper in a largish, rectangular cake-tin. Pour your mixture into the tin. Trust me when I say you’ll regret forgetting the baking paper step if you don’t do it.

Step Seven: Throw everything into the oven and leave it to bake for about an hour. Timing will vary depending on your oven and how well it handles such things, but you’re basically aiming for a cake that’s a nice golden-brown on the top and still moist inside. If you’re a fan of the skewer test, you’re largely looking for the opposite of what you’d normally looking for – if the skewer comes out clean, you’ve overcooked things.

Fortunately, this cake is still fairly delicious if you overcook things. Plus, we’ve got the Honey-Ginger Cream to make up for any mistakes you may have made on that front. And, unlike the cake, the cream is dead fucking simple.

So, Step Eight: At some point during the hour your cake is in the oven, either clean your mixing bowl (or grab another one) and throw in your ginger, your double-cream, and two table-spoons of honey. Mix like hell, until things are, well, mixed. When you’re done, cover the bowl and put your honey-ginger cream into the fridge until you need it.

Easy.

When your hour is up, take your cake out of the oven. If you’re sensible, let it cool a little before you start cutting it into squares and serving it with a dollop of cream on the top. If you’re me, cut it into squares while it’s still warm and eat a few peices, ’cause it’s way better that way.

Bake Off! or, I Offer to Throw My Dignity Away to Make Up for My Lack of Skillz

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We’re in the midst of a competitive bake-off at work this week, endeavoring to raise money in support of International Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month. QWC staff have diligently unearthed the most impressive cakes they can, pitched their merits via facebook, and asked people to donate and vote for their favourite baked treat. Funds raised will go towards supporting the ongoing work of the Garvan Institute and the Australian Pancreatic Cancer Genome Initiative.

That’s the serious bit.

The not so serious bit is that the staff member who raises the most money will be required to wear the Hat of Awesome, which I’ve been assured is an actual hat, and therefore MUST BE MINE. ‘Cause, you know, hat…awesome. I can spend an entire day pretending to be a Jäger, speaking in a German accent and generally befuddling my colleagues with random Girl Genius references.

I may also declare myself LORD OF THE CAKES, simply because I can.

Now I suffer a disadvantage in this contest ’cause I’m pretty much limited to a two-cake arsenal – I make a pretty good chili-carrot cake and a mean Sri Lankan Love Cake with Honey-Ginger Cream – and neither of these cakes photographs well ’cause I aim for damn fuckin’ tasty rather than pretty when it comes to food.

Meanwhile some of my co-workers have brought out the big guns, such as the dreaded Cherpumple (think Turducken, but made with cake and pie), in order to ensure the hat is theirs. There’s no beating the Cherpumple in a fair bake-off – it’s a culinary monster that requires that combination of l33t skillz and foodie ambition that I don’t posses.

Which is why I plan on cheating and using this-here blog to ask…nay, I verily BEG… for your money and your vote. If you – yes YOU – head on over to our Bake-Off page, throw a handful of coins into the pot, and put “Peter’s Mighty Sri-Lankan Love Cake FTW” in the comments along with your, the hat of awesome can still be mine.

‘Course, I’m not just going to ask for your money and your vote while giving you nothing in return. We all know that the internet runs on three things – cats, food porn, and other people’s humiliation – so I hereby offer to do the following things if I win:

1) Post the recipe I use for said Love-Cake/Honey Cream combination here on the blog, for all to partake of the  (traditionally I hold this recipe hostage and taunt people with it, for he who holds the secrets of the cake holds power in his hands)

2) Post a photograph of me wearing the HAT OF AWESOME once its in my possession (This promises to be somewhat amusing for you all, and if it’s not, I’ll go find some other moderately embarrassing hats to be photographed in)

3) If I win the Hat and we succeed in raising our $1000 goal as an organisation, I will actually declare myself LORD OF THE CAKES and video tape myself doing a DANCE OF VICTORY while wearing the HAT OF AWESOME (I’d offer to hold a cat while doing this, for the added laughs, but I’m kinda…allergic). As a bonus, I’ll even let the person who donates the highest amount in my name pick the song.

So, to sum up: Cancer Bad, Cakes Good, We Need Your Money, PETER’S ABJECT HUMILIATION DISPLAYED FOR ALL TO SEE ON THE INTERNET. What more do you want?

GenreCon: The Aftermath

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By the time you read this it will have been a little over a week since the inaugural AWM GenreCon ended. I’m going to specify this upfront, ’cause a portion of the content has been written before, during, and after the con, fitting into the little slices of time where I have sufficient brainpower to write. Some of these fragments made sense. Some of them did not. Such is the nature of running conventions.

Point the First: GENRECON ROCKED

I can scarcely believe I’m able to say this, since I spent so long fretting about the various ways that the conference could have gone wrong, but GenreCon proved to be a smashing success. Attendees were happy, guests were happy, my boss was really happy.

We got a massive response rate to the pitching program (and a really high proportion of pitchers got asked to submit partials), the program was packed out, and for once I was at a con where you couldn’t actually find people in the bar when panelling was taking place.

If you’re looking at my definition of success, based on a couple of years going to SF cons, that’s it right there. We spent weeks arguing about the program trying to achieve that no-one in the bar effect, and I’m really glad it was all worthwhile.

‘Course, me being me, I’m not entirely happy with the way things went. There are so many little things I wanted to go a little smoother, a bunch of tiny gaffs I wish I could go back and correct. This is as it should be, I think, ’cause if I got it right I wouldn’t be anywhere near as enthusiastic about next year.

And there is a next year. GenreCon 2013 will be held in Brisbane. It was all announced, official-like, at the end of the con. Watch this space for details.

Point the Second: TALENT MATTERS

GenreCon wasn’t my first bite of the cherry when it comes to running a con program, so I’m under no illusion that the event success was all down to me. Truth is, running a con is a lot of work and it just about kills the person in the convenor’s seat, but it seems to me that a lot of the success and failure of the event comes down to the Guests and Program Participants. If they’re friendly, generous with their time, and available to the attendees, then you’re pretty much made.

Our guests this year? So. Fricken’. AWESOME.

Our volunteer program panellists? See the above.

In some cases this wasn’t really a surprise. QWC has an established relationship with all the agents and publishers we programmed, plus we’ve worked with writers like Anna Campbell, Helene Young, PM Newton, and Simon Higgins in the past. They’re known quantities and they were invited specifically because we knew they would rock the damn Kasbah when they arrived (and they did). Similarly…well, we read Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. We had a lot of confidence that Sarah Wendell would knock it out of the park as a guest (and she did).

Some of the other names…well, let’s just say they were an educated guess. Joe Abercrombie is a big enough name that he’s a veteran of SF cons, but even with that in mind he proved to be the kind of charming and endearing con guest that makes it all worthwhile. We’d invited Canberra-based writer Dan O’Malley because his first book, The Rook, created huge waves when it was released earlier in the year (I believe the conversation actually went “does anyone know anything about him? No? Well, we’ll give him a go). It turns out he’s never been to a con before, but he’s utterly made for it – funny, enthusiastic, extraordinarily generous with his fellow writers. I kinda want Australian SF conferences to start inviting him along, ’cause he’s going to charm the hell out of fandom when he eventually comes into contact with that particular readership.

If you’re running a convention anywhere in the world, I can utterly recommend any of our GenreCon guests without hesitation. Our program participants too, who were awesome across the board.

Point the Third: TEAM QWC? TOTES AWESOME

I’m not really shy about the fact that I adore the people I work with. They are, to a person, smart, dedicated, passionate, and utterly awesome.

Even by those standards, I came to really adore them in the weeks leading up to GenreCon. For a really long time the con was the thing that lived in my head, and that kinda ran me into the red zone on stress levels.

All that changed about three weeks out from GenreCon.  Suddenly find that all these tasks that were doing my head in would be…done. Major catastrophes would hit and someone would be all “don’t worry, I can fix that,” and then they would. Often, they’d fix things so they were better than they’d been before.

Occasionally I talk to people in the arts and publishing who are amazed at how much QWC does with such a small team. Mostly, that’s possible, ’cause that small team is like a crack squad of ninja when it comes to getting stuff done.

Point the Fourth: HOLY FUCK I’M TIRED

Seriously, I’ve spent the week since the con walking around like a man whose gone ten rounds in a boxing match. I’ve got the kind of sleep debt that means the Sandman sends leg-breakers around to the house to strongly suggest that you really should pay that sleep back before something…untoward…happens, you know? Which is then followed by some meaningful staring, and the swinging of baseball bats that accidently shatter your favourite lamp.

‘Course, I’ve immediately followed up GenreCon by working four weekends in a row. This is the curse of not paying attention to the things that happen after the con when you’re asked to do stuff. On the other hand, I’m really looking forward to getting to the point where it hits two o’clock in the afternoon and I don’t feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

I’m taking today off, ’cause I need it, but I have a feeling it’s barely going to make a dent in the sleep debt. I’m taking a week off in December. As in, a week that is not the week that I take off anyway, ’cause QWC shuts down over the holiday. My original plan was to go to Melbourne and do stuff. My revised plan is to flake out on the couch and sleep. Maybe write some stuff. Anything that reduces my contact with other human beings down to the mandatory minimum required to still be considered a part of the human race.

Point the Fifty: TOTALLY WORTH IT

We talked about tribes a lot at GenreCon. How to find them, how to recognise them, how important it is to get in touch with yours. We tried to help people with that as much as we could, giving our platform over to the various organisations that represent genre tribes in Australia.

Spec Fic was represented by volunteers from Conflux, next year’s NatCon. I’ve both been to Natcons, and to a certain extent I can look at them and say yes, these are my tribes.

But that’s a lie, really. My tribe has always been writers and passionate readers, regardless of their genre. There is nothing that makes me happier than looking out and knowing I had a hand in an event where writers have gathered to learn, develop, and advance their careers. I’m really excited to see how things develop from here, both in terms of the writers themselves and the way GenreCon runs in future years.

Thanks to everyone who came and participated and generally made the weekend a blast.