Unreplicatable Cake

Never before, in all her long years, had Millie craved something this bad. And, this craving had to be satisfied.

“Cale,” She said, “Do your grandmother a favor and fetch a slice of chocolate cake, will you?”

She watched as her grandson rose and made his way to the alcove. He leaned in to speak to the food synthesizer, much like he would to her, with a loud voice and clear annunciation. “Chocolate cake.” The wall-mounted machine beeped and began to hum. The tray began to glow. And, after a moment or two, there was a perfect piece of chocolate cake sitting upon a plate.

Millie accepted the dessert with a grateful smile. The two of them settled in again on the couch and returned their eyes to the holographic screen. Their favorite soap opera was on, and it was their weekly ritual to watch. Lifting the fork up, she sniffed it. It certainly smelled like chocolate cake. With bated breath, Millie lowered her fork, which trembled in her grip, down to the cake. But, as she took a bite, she almost spit it all out (and her dentures, too).

“This is not chocolate cake! It does not taste quite right.”

“What’s wrong, Granny?” Cale asked, turning. “Is your synthesizer on the fritz again?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Millie said, setting the plate down on her side table. “This cake, it doesn’t taste like real chocolate cake.

Cale chuckled, “It is real food. If you want it more chocolaty, I can always alter the recipe programming for you.”

Millie frowned at her grandson, who had already shifted his attention to a racing game on his tablet. The meals that came out of the synthesizer were good, balanced, and nutritious, to be sure, but they lacked originality. A machine could not understand the nuance of flavors, nor could it replicate the handmade touch. Cale didn’t know what real food was. After all, he’d never tasted anything that hadn’t come out of a food synth unit. The sad dessert on her plate could not compare. It was nothing like the amazing desserts her great grandmother used to make.

Her Nana’s chocolate cake was the height of desserts. It was perfection in the form of a bouncy sponge, a layer of whipped cream, and velvety frosting. It was not just another chocolate cake, by any means; Nana's cake was powerful. As the old family tale went, her great grandmother had won her husband’s heart with a single slice. Millie doubted a cake alone could bewitch anyone, but it was the best she'd ever tasted. There was just nothing like it. Since her sweet Nana passed, so many decades ago, this chocolate cake had only existed in her memories. It would be nice to taste that cake again, just one more time for the sake of nostalgia. And the chance to introduce her grandson to a proper chocolate cake, too.

“When you come to visit next week, I’ll have a special treat for you.” Millie’s frown transformed into a smile.

It was quite an undertaking, but Millie demanded fresh ingredients. In search of flour, eggs, sugar and baking chocolate, she’d placed calls to mills, farms, and the few brick and mortar bakeries still in existence. The most important ingredient, cocoa powder, had been the most difficult to acquire. Millie hadn’t wanted something that had been vacuum packed and set on a shelf for eons; she wanted quality. The tiny parcel of cocoa was hand-delivered by a man, and they made the exchange like they were in a shady back alley. It hadn’t been cheap, either. The shipping costs alone made her head spin.

This was bound to be the most extravagant cake she would ever eat, but it would be worth it.

“Now, how to work this contraption…” Millie scratched her head, pondering the buttons and switches on a cube-like device. Her small convection oven was brand new. Thankfully, it was big enough to fit two cake tins. The tins themselves had been in her family for generations, relics brought over from Old Earth. These ancient things should be in a museum, Millie mused with a grin.

When she was a girl, she’d always thought it had been strange that her Nana had held onto things from the old days. But, now that she, too, was an old woman, she understood. It was about the ritual, the tradition. It was easy to forget. Living in one of the most state-of-the-art retirement communities, her flat was filled with new technology. Her comfortable recliner chair hovered about, she didn’t even have to walk across the room to fetch a cup of tea. In this modern era of conveniences, she realized there was something to be said for just plain ‘doing it yourself.’

“Two and…” Millie muttered aloud as she tried to decipher the recipe, the faded handwritten card. Dipping her measuring cup into a paper bag, she drew out a heaping scoop of flour, most of which she spilled. The rest of the ingredients would follow, measured as accurately as her shaking hands would allow. “Things just don't get any easier as you get old,” she muttered as she cracked the eggs and then fished out a few bits of shell that had fallen into the batter. Next, she sprinkled in a dash of instant coffee powder (and probably some cat hair, too, it was inevitable). The cocoa went in by the tablespoon, creating a brief flurry of dark-colored powder.

With every turn of the wooden spoon, the batter began to come together. Millie’s frail arms now had a new appreciation for the elbow grease that her great grandmother had used to make this cake as often as she did. Millie tipped the batter into the antique pans that waited, greased and floured. Once the two pans were in the oven, there was nothing left to do but wait. “Ah,” Millie dropped into her hover-chair and maneuvered it over to the oven and watched, her cloudy eyes wide with anticipation. She rocked slightly, letting the minutes pass in a soothing, gentle sway.

A shrill beeping woke her with a snort.

She scrambled up, stuffed her hands into a pair of oven mitts, and pulled the hot cake pans from the oven. As the two layers cooled on a wire rack, Millie began the fiddly process of tempering chocolate. The chocolate ganache was the crowning glory of the cake, and it was her favorite part. There would be a thick smear of this frosting between the two layers, and the outside would receive a good coating of it, too. She could hardly wait.

When all was said and done, Millie took a moment to admire her handiwork. Her finished cake looked a bit rough, a bit informal. Actually, it was quite lopsided. The chocolate frosting was a bit messy and there were a few naked patches where the cake peeked through.

As if on cue, her front door chimed and Cale stepped through. His chin lifted and followed his nose to the kitchen – the source of the chocolate-scented air. Millie relished in seeing her grandson’s surprise. She'd made quite the mess of her kitchen (and herself). With a triumphant smile, she held up the freshly baked cake. When she cut into the frosted sponge, she was pleased that the layers were distinct and holding together well. She hoped Nana would be proud.

“Why don’t you give this a try?” Millie said, swelling with pride.

She held her breath as Cale took a bite.

“Now, this is real cake!”