Holy smokes! The Carbondale Mountain Fair is back this weekend and I am going into my third fair as a distinguished judge in the annual cake contest. They say that everyone gets their 15 minutes in the sun and I have to confess that judging this contest is one of my favorite parts of the fair. The cake contest is Sunday at 11 a.m.
I’ve learned a lot since I started my cake judging career. At first I thought that cake was something you made from a box, or better yet, bought from a grocery store or bakery, or, at last resort, a Ding Dong.
But no! Cake is subtle, sophisticated, and, when done right, one of the best foods in the world. But what a delicate balance it all is. So many things influence a cake. You want to be creative and/or healthful, but only to a point. The last thing you want to do is shock the judges out of their seats with your sour kumquat cake. And people who try to get too organic really run the risk of losing all semblance of what is considered “normal.” What I’m saying here is don’t serve me an organic, no-flour, carob and flaxseed-soy cake and expect me to like it. I have traditional roots and so do many of the judges I’ve met over the years.
It’s all about standards. When you are a judge you have to hold yourself to the highest human standards possible. Nothing is more contemptible than a tainted, unprepared, prejudiced or biased judge. Whether you are judging a battle of the bands, a beauty contest or the Simpson trial, you have to be upstanding. That’s why I’m taking my role as judge very seriously.
Last year, I cleared my palate for days, staying off the sweets and doing a deep cleanse with various Neti Pots, powders and preparations. I rested for 12 hours before the contest. I even fasted for 24 hours before the gig.
This year I’m taking a different approach. I’m bingeing on chocolate, cookies, tortes, scones and baked goods. I’m building up calluses on my sweet tooth so that I might be prepared for the insane gastronomical challenges that come with being a cake judge. I mean, last year I sampled nine slices from the cake division (some of them twice) and a judge can’t be expected not to try one or two things from the other two divisions: exotic and torte. Add a bottomless glass of champagne to the stew and you’ve got a recipe for hallucinations and an early collapse. You have to be ready!
I just watched someone eat 69 hot dogs in 10 minutes on television. When I saw that I was inspired to get in shape for the contest. In addition to the physical workouts, I’ve been honing my judging skills by judging everything I see until the big day. Spending last weekend with my mom only served to heighten my already formidable judging prowess.
“Saggy.”
“Bumpy.”
“Runny.”
“A nice bouquet.”
“Too dense.”
“Berry nice.”
I already judge like a mother and this competition is going to give the world a chance to see me strut my stuff. I’ll measure for texture, aroma, flavor, color, originality and technical difficulty.
And taste. Yes, taste. The ambrosia of the co-mingling of the ingredients with the palate. Sugar and saliva. Chocolate and cheeks. Spices and sinuses. I understand taste and I have a discerning palate that can judge the difference between Wonder and Dolly Madison with my eyes closed.
Seriously, if something’s a bit off, I notice. Whether it’s that misbrewed cup of coffee, the overfried onion rings, the stale scone or the freezer-burned crab legs, my twitching nostrils and eyes are judging, discriminating and disapproving, often before the overpriced, malprepared mess reaches my place setting. That’s why I’m perfect for this job.
If it’s a sponge cake, I’ll be looking for texture, cracks and bounce-backs. If we are talking fruitcake I’m looking for symmetry and volume, presentation and cleanliness, character of spring, soundness, bloom, color, general character and uniformity of fruits and nuts. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes with some store-bought fruit cake. I know my fruit cakes.
I’ll admit that I have an affinity for chocolate. I appreciate a well-made chocolate cake, brownie, bar, pie or ice cream cone. Hopefully the competition will have large scoops of Dreyer’s vanilla ice cream nearby so that I can get the true flavor as it’s meant to be served. I’ll probably smuggle in some milk and coffee just in case they don’t provide these chocolate enhancers. But when I judge those cakes I’ll be looking for the right combination of dark and sweet, evenness of internal texture, cell size, shape, fineness of walls, holes, softness, crumb stability and all the regular stuff. But it’s how the cake mixes up with the enhancers that could make or break a chocolate cake.
I’m also staying open to the idea of a malformed cake blowing my taste buds to kingdom come. If there’s some lonely, misshapen baked good looking for love and being ignored by other snooty judges, I’ll be over there fingering it, pushing my nose into it and, yes, smearing it all over my cheeks to really get a feel for why this cake could be special. I’m a judge who’s not afraid to get his hands and face dirty in the name of cake.
It’s possible that I could start judging as a regular, professional thing. It would be nice to be asked back to the Mountain Fair next year and perhaps other carnivals and fairs will hear of my judging expertise. Yes this could snowball. A pink, frosted, coconut marshmallow snowball heated in the microwave for 20 seconds and topped with a scoop of Ben and Jerry’s. Now that’s cake.
Steve Skinner hopes that the fad of using raspberries with chocolate has passed. Enter your cake in the contest by showing up Sunday at 10 a.m. Reach him at nigel@sopris.net.
