Open Love Letter to The Victoria Sandwich Cake

Just for a moment, can we forget about the news and the state of the world and instead talk about cake? I know this seems shallow and possibly verging on the politically incorrect but honestly, it’s starting to turn a bit chilly outside and somehow even the sunlight itself is becoming harsh and brittle – certainly, no longer gentle.

So I need cake.

A Victoria Sandwich cake is a simple iconic sponge cake. ‘Sponge cake’ in itself is a troubling term, since a true ‘sponge’ has little or no butter and relies on egg whites to be poofy which is definitely NOT the case here. Many sources suggest that this cake was Queen Victoria’s favourite and was served at tea parties to help with her endless grief after her husband’s passing. But to me, it was simply the go-to, working class cake of my childhood and was made from my mother’s only cookbook as seen here – a hilarious cookbook in retrospect too, almost Monty Python-ish at times but quite unconsciously so, which of course makes it even funnier.

I have tried many times to replicate this cake not only from my mum’s Trex cookbook but also via the always reliable Jamie Oliver and many others. I have come close but never quite satisfy what I remember. Marks and Spencer’s used to turn out quite a decent one and most recently I will be trying Mary Berry’s version which looks very encouraging.

That said, here is my own Victoria Sandwich gnosis so far:

• Many, many of the recipes I have tested require the cake to be made in two 8-9″ tins and then sandwiched together with the strange amount of 4 Tbs. of raspberry jam and optionally, cream. Are they making a joke? 4 Tbs. of jam barely covers a slice of toast made with freakishly small bread. Plan to lob on most of a jar and then the cream – which obviously is not optional! (I think my mum used one tin and split the cake in half but still went for the larger ratios of jam and cream!)
• This is not a cake that keeps well. Put it in a tin if you must (in the unlikely event that there is any left!) but try not to make a full day before an event.  The crumb is compromised very quickly and may quickly recall the chokingly dry cake of one’s youth. (I’m looking at you, someone’s old British auntie’s dusty Caraway Cake – blech!!)
• Can we mention briefly how dreamy this cake batter is? Oh, the licking of the bowl afterwards – silky, vanilla swirls on the damp smoothness of a wooden spoon against the tongue. Nostalgia at its finest and probably most poignant.
• If you feel like coming over all vintage, a very effective ‘finish’ is to place an old-school paper doily on the top and carefully sift icing sugar all over. Remove gently and admire the lace pattern you have created! We learned this in Cookery Class in the UK and were amazed by the result. Yes, they were simpler times …
• This is also the ultimate cake to combine with strong, hot tea and is infinitely cheering in the way that shiny, globby (blue?) cupcakes can never even aspire to. There, I said it.
• This was also my father’s favourite cake and he could be counted on to recall how powdered eggs (often the only eggs available during the war) produced a higher, lighter version. I personally believe that it was just the sheer joy of recalling any cake eaten during those dreadful years.
• Sometimes when I have made this cake, I find that the edges are overly crispy no matter what I try (cool in the tin longer, remove earlier, parchment paper/opting for shortening to grease pan, even on one occasion trimming the edges a little). Complete success has alluded me. How did my mother do this? Perhaps my five year old self was less critical!
• There are loads of cooking blogs online of course but here is a very charming and informative one that covers a lot of Brit favourites. See you in a few hours!