|I can never remember to 'soften'|
the butter, so just cut it into
I cheekily left out the soured cream, as I was not about to go buy it especially, just to add little more than a heaped tablespoon. My next idea was just to use plain yoghurt, but we didn't have any in the house, so I'm afraid it cannot be said whether this soured cream was the magic ingredient. I can confirm that it is by no way strictly necessary!
Once you've made the basic batter you half it, add cinnamon to one half and raisins to the other. There is something very unnatural about adding a tablespoon of cinnamon after watching the cinnamon challenge.
I left Dad in charge of taking the cake out of the oven. From his report it wasn't cooked in the middle when he kept checking it, so the cake wasn't as soft as normal, with a slight crust (I would, of course, have know to turn the temperature down). However the cake was not burnt and certainly edible, so I will give him the credit he deserved.
The ironic thing is that, despite choosing the recipe, Ian (the father in question) is yet to try it. I have warned him that I haven't planned to do any repeats, so I guess it is his loss! Luckily I have an endless appetite when it comes to cake. This is a nice simple little cake. Nothing spectacular, but there's is something welcoming about it. Maybe it's the wintery warmth of the cinnamon, the simplicity or the flavours, or the lack of a sickly frosting. This cake is the equivalent of a hug hello. Nothing unusual, but puts a smile on your face all the same.
|Vanilla and Raisin Sponge|
|Cinnamon mixture on top. Dab about to swirl and mix...|
|Then smooth over before popping in the oven.|