Lamington drive

The thought of lamingtons conjurs up memories of the yearly tradition of lamington drives for school, girl's brigade, church fundraisers, senior citizens fundraisers, etc, etc, etc... I'm sure it was even more painful for parents, guilted into buying the dreaded things, and bullied into arriving at the school early on a Saturday morning to take delivery of the un-iced cakes, and spend the day dipping and boxing at the direction of the second grade teacher straight out of uni.

I remember one year, back in the days when primary school children could wander the neighbourhood, safe in the knowledge that as long as parents knew vaguely where you were and you were home by dinner, they wouldn't panic and call a full-scale search, a good friend of mine called Imogen and I set out to sell more lamingtons than any other girls brigader had ever sold in the history of girls brigaders selling lamingtons. We decided that rather than do a half-arsed job canvassing immediate relatives, next door neighbours and our parents friends who would be unable to say no, (lest our parents refuse to buy their kids' fundraising crap) we would launch a well-planned, street-by-street operation in our suburb. I think we were actually trying to knock some leader's pet off their perch, but motive didn't matter because we were raising money for some good, girls brigade approved cause. I have no memory of what that was but I know it didn't directly benefit us - unless you count the glow you get when you sell more lamingtons than anyone else. But anyway...

For two 11 year olds, we were well-organised and strategic. There were clipboards involved, and a map of our suburb, one water bottle (no fear of germs then) and Imogen's bike in case we got tired. I don't really think either of us could read the map, but we had a notion that it was good marketing for adults to see two such organised kids, even if we didn't know what marketing was either. We went on to set some kind of lamington selling record, for the sale of both cream-filled and plain lamingtons - something like 67 dozen from memory. Not bad. It was announced in the church and we were instantly forgiven for annoying far too many innocent citizens.

Anyway, Tim's had a craving for lamingtons lately and has been disappointed with the general standard of pre-packaged, pre-fabbed, pre-flavour offerings at the supermarket. Let's face it, the life of the supermarket lammo starts so long before it ever finds a home that the poor things don't have a chance! Dry sponge that doesn't resemble anything my mother ever made, synthetically flavoured with the sorriest looking coconut clinging desperately to the synthetically coloured chocolate, raspberry (try flamingo pink) or white syruped edges impersonating real icing. It's no wonder that Tim turned once again to the (so far) fail-safe pages of Donna Hay's chocolate book for guidance. (It was her or me and I wasn't in the mood.)

Tim has a theory that lamingtons are made best with slightly stale, day-old sponge. Since we didn't have any of that lying around the house, he bought a sponge cake from the supermarket. Next step, measure it up and square of the corners. Yes, I'm serious. The man had a ruler and other geometrical implements on hand so that his lamingtons would be perfectly cut. (I know) Next came the frosting. It involved A LOT of icing sugar, so he halved the quantities. But basically it's a hot, runny, cocoa icing. Totally idiot-proof. Tim did really well.

Lamington Icing

Donna Hay, Simple Essentials - Chocolate, p40.

Ingredients:

3 cups (450g/15 3/4oz) icing sugar, sifted

3/4 cup (90g/3oz) cocoa powder, sifted

1 cup (250ml/ 8fl oz) boiling water

1/4 cup (60ml/ 2 fl oz) milk

75g (2 1/2 oz) melted butter

dessicated coconut, to coat

Mix together all of the ingredients in a large bowl. Put the coconut in another bowl. Roll the sponge squares in the icing and then in the desiccated coconut. Place on a baking tray lined with non-stick baking paper and refrigerate until set.