Adventures in Bobby D's

I've been baking now for about 3 years, and my pleasure intensifies with each magnificent cake I produce. Conversely, a bad result can cause misery for days. For all this time, I have doggedly resisted the purchase of an electric hand whisk, despite many of my favourite recipes demanding it. There is something about manual beating that appeals to the puritan in me. To look at a lovely cake, knowing that you have toiled so hard in its preparation, adds to the pleasure and satisfaction. I'm Jewish after all, and all good Jews need to suffer a bit for their art. However, after a particularly prolific baking weekend, and a right arm with an abnormally bulging bicep, I decided that it was time for me to drag myself into the modern age and buy an electric mixer. Needless to say, this momentous decision induced purchase paralysis on a massive scale. The more I googled, the more indecisive I became. In the end I just bit the bullet and headed, as I do so often in a crisis, to Robert Dyas (or Bobby D's, as my friend Rachelle's husband calls it) on Kensington High St. I would need pages to explain my love for this store - where else can you buy gel stilletto pads, baking beans and a car vacuum cleaner? I love its' random product diversity. So I finally plumped for James Martin's hand mixer, mainly because it had an extra attachment - a balloon whisk, which I thought might come in handy. As previously reported, my first attempt to use it did not go well - whether this was strictly down to the overuse of the new machine, I don't yet know. I'm making three birthday cakes this weekend, so let's see what happens. I've a feeling though that my right bicep might still be getting bulgier yet.