There’s a whole lotta smashin’ goin’ on — say what?
As I spend increased time browsing through various social media platforms, the more I read references to items that are “smashed” on purpose and not by accident.
A post the other day caught my eye. A mother of a soon-to-be one-year-old child was anxious to find someone to bake a first birthday smash cake. That followed with the names of individuals others felt qualified to bake such a cake for this celebration.
A smash cake, eh?
At first, I thought it might follow the ugly ritual of some newly married couples who insist on smashing wedding cake onto the faces of their new partners. I never could understand why this despicable act became something to cheer while the bride was in her very expensive gown and the groom was still wearing his rented tuxedo.
I envisioned a birthday party guest walking up to the celebrant and mushing the birthday cake onto the child’s face, thus making that child fear birthdays and cakes forever and ever. “Please, no cake, Mom!”
After some intensive cake research, I learned that smash cakes are designed so the child can bury his or her own face in the icing, which is usually made from whipping cream. There doesn’t appear to be much batter in the cake. There is whipping cream, cream cheese and cut-up pieces of fruit in the one I saw.
The birthday child, being excited by the whipping cream, picks up the cake and tries to put it into a tiny mouth and in doing so, covers a tiny face with whipped cream and fruit, producing many photo opportunities and smiles, while the child beams proudly at how much fun is involved with this cake.
I don’t know for sure, but I would hope there is another cake baked for the occasion, one to be sliced and shared among the party guests, with no smashing going on for them.
Back in the olden days, we didn’t have smash cakes, but I do have faded photos that show babies (I believe I am one of them) with regular icing on infant faces, hands filled with cake and decorations and broad smiles on those faces.
One cake fit all that went on. A single slice went to the birthday person, and the rest was shared. And unless the birthday slice went onto the floor, the cake was not wasted. Either Mom, Dad or a sibling ate whatever the baby left behind. I would hope the modern Smash Cake is similarly consumed after the baby is finished with the smashing.
But it isn’t only cakes that are smashing. No, some burgers have the same condition.
There are restaurants, I’ve learned, that sell nothing but a variety of smashed burgers, including the one in Denver where it is said the smashburgers originated.
One person in love with this form of hamburger meat has this to say: “Smash burgers done right, with the right beef, are just as juicy as their thick counterparts. Smash burgers have the added flavour of the crust.”
So, if I understand the concept, thick and juicy burgers are smushed down to a thin layer of meat and cooked on a hot grill until the edges become crispy. Every chef, of course, has a secret recipe for what’s put into the meat and then onto the meat to give distinct flavours.
One of these days, we in this house might venture to a restaurant that has smash burgers on the menu. I will take one with mushroom sauce and caramelized onion. No lettuce, cucumbers or tomatoes, thank you. Housemate would likely ask for raw onions and all the other condiments. If enough other items are added, it will be difficult to taste the burger to know if it has been smashed properly.
In all my years of doing things in the kitchen, not once have I ever thought of preparing Smashed Potatoes. But there is indeed a recipe for Smashed Potatoes.
Come to think of it, I have smashed potatoes. But I always called them “mashed potatoes” when I served them with roast turkey and gravy.
Smashed, indeed!
Joyce Walter can be reached at [email protected]
