I will confess straight away. Mister Kipling I most certainly am not. So, if I was to stumble across a way to make the production of cake easier, I'd be an idiot not to try it, right?
During a break from my hectic working life, I found this. It promised cake and quickness, the two things I'd been searching for in my life. It had to be done.
I found myself, sometime later, in the kitchen. That's the room at the back of the house where the tea comes from, one room before the beer fridge. I had lined up the necessary ingredients in front of me, and set about my task, armed only with a shaky hand and slack measuring skills.
For future reference, what does a tablespoon consist of? Is it heaped, flat or in between? I cracked on, using a mixture of the three varieties of tablespoon measurement. There was powder everywhere. The flour went in, then the Tesco Value choccy powder. It was coming together well...
In goes the egg, incredibly minus the shell. I couldn't believe how well this was going. I'd half expected to find a half formed chick in the bottom of my mug, but it never came. Nothing could stop me now! Nothing!
Apart from having to stir the stuff, obviously. As soon as I moved the spoon, huge quantities of eggy powder leapt from the cup, leaving the wife to regale me in French. "Try a little spoon, you f***ing useless c**t!" she shouted. Valentine's Day gets earlier every year. Awww.
Attempting to calm the lumpy liquid, I added oil and water, two things that only usually come as a pair in the same place in my car engine. After more (careful) stirring it was time to bake.
3 minutes is a long time. Especially when you've got your nose prodded up against the microwave door, waiting for the eruption to happen. It didn't.
After using oven gloves to remove the mug, I emptied the 'cake' onto a plate. It looked a bit like choco-scrambled egg, and smelt the same. I tried a piece.
It wasn't bad, but it wasn't world changing either. It certainly wasn't as nice as the cakes the missus made, or the cake from Phil's house which makes Jack and Alfie sing nursery rhymes in Albanian to you.
In fact, I would go as far as to say I won't eat micro cake again. But I need to try it with extra choc, so a bar of Belgian 75% gear was bought for tomorrow's experiment, providing I don't, y'know, die before tomorrow night.