Woah!!! After a whirlwind tour of Ballarat, including the local Men’s Shed, a parking lot and an extra stealth entrance into a crowded cafe, The flying tapirs are carb loading for our longest flight yet… all the way to Perth!
We’re amazingly excited to bring some icing laden joy to the western state, and dream up extra fabulous rhymes for the most isolated capital city in the world. If anywhere needs a few cake-song-joy-events, it’s the city of black swans, beautiful sunsets and being fabulously Quokka-adjacent.
Read up on our FAQ page, book one of our super limited spots, and join in the fun!
If you’ve already got wise and booked a spot, you should click here and fill in our form toot sweet!
See you on the west side, cake fiends!
The Tapirs are giggling gerties with excitement after the sugar high of registering for the Perth World Fringe Festival in February.
If you’ve booked a cakebomb, we’ll have the form online for you within the week. Please check back!
Any WA baking specialities we should research? I’ve heard you do a mean lamington…
Stop the presses! The flying tapirs are fuelling up on icing sugar and testing their propellers as they prepare for the always amazing Festival of Slow Music in historic and often chilly Ballarat.
We are thrilled to be collaborating with the Ballarat Ukelele Collective, wreaking havock on the doorsteps and public squares of Victorias most picturesque gold rush town.
The Tapirs will also be premiering their new project, which bears a striking resemblance to their current project, and are very much looking forward to actually being in the same country at the same time, and spending some time getting butter in the banjo strings.
More details coming super dooper soon, but if we’ve piqued your interest/taste buds and you want to inquire about how to invite us to your place… send us an email at email@example.com, and check the Frequently Asked Questions!
Till next time, we’ll see you in the skies over sunny Ballarat!
Miranda and Leah.
It wasn’t at a house, which was a tad confusing for us, but we revelled in being able to make the most obnoxious entrance we could think of: snare drum and samba whistle. It’s safe to say that Meghan may have thought there was a birthday surprise coming, but she probably didn’t expect the sheer dynamic volume we brought to the event.
We’re not sure what it means, but possibly the loudest laugh we got was to the triumphant chant “FOUR MORE DAYS LEFT IN THE FESTIVAL!”
To quote Felix after the show: “She loved it, she’s the type who says she hates surprises, but really secretly loves them”
Oh, the fringe has been amazing so far. Great people, tasty cakes, grandma’s and birthdays.
For the first day, we made the best cake, a chocolate cake.
Duncan’s house party was adorable, surprising his friends mother, who had just become a grandmother with a celebration of “Oma-ness”. The main drama was Miranda’s banjo tuning peg breaking on the way in the door, leading to an extra ‘twang’ in the sound, but it’s near enough for bluegrass!
It was such a great cakebomb for us, because we were super nervous, and seeing “Oma” cover her face in delight when she realised the surprise was for her made all the nerves worthwhile.
Quoth Duncan: “Amazing night! Thanks so much!! it was perfect!”
Oh, shucks Duncan! Thanks for inviting us in.
Then it was off to Jacob, who had planned a surprise for his housemate. She didn’t realise it was her birthday party until we arrived. She was correct in assuming her friends were gathering to watch “the bachelor” and hopefully she’s not too upset at missing the end of the show. We can fill you in, Amy, just call us.
These folks are all also colleagues in our ‘real life’ careers, so it was extra fun to turn up and surprise them. One of them is even a sometime student of Leah’s. We like to think that we gave them a priceless lesson in possible future career paths outside the practice room. Or something.
Quoth Jacob: “Amy is still in shock, it was pefect!!! And the cake is beautiful! Thank you so much!”
You’re welcome Jacob, thanks for being such an awesome audience that when we got totally lost and yelled “to the bridge!” to find our place you all laughed and kept clapping along regardless. You’re awesome.
On to day two! MORE CAKE!
The video we’ve let out of the social media embargo.
We have no words for how much fun the Fringe was, we wrote many many songs, we baked way more cakes that we can comprehend, we (briefly) met more fabulous people that I have in any other festival, and we’ve slept for weeks following.
Love you all, more to follow.
Thanks to our good friends at Leader Newspapers and The Music for these great articles, in real hardcopy print form at a coffee shop near you!
(you have to ‘turn’ the ‘page’ 18 times to get to our article. The rest is worth a look though! Some great stuff on in the fringe!)
Forgive us blog, for we have slacked. It’s been 10 months since our last baking and entering. 10 months! If it feels like just yesterday to you that we burst into suburban living rooms, singing rhythmically dubious songs about french apple cake, then maybe you should check that your watch hasn’t stopped. It’s been a super busy 10 months for Leah and Miranda; between them they’ve covered most of the country, and graced a few other countries with their presence. They’ve taken Opera to the outback, improvised in Greece, and generally been busy enough to convince their parents that music is actually a valid career path.
However, now, we’re back in first person, and super excited to be back in the kitchen… especially as we’re making BAKLAVA!
Here is a highly paraphrased version of the conversation when Leah suggested Baklava.
L: How about Baklava! It’s delicious, and looks pretty easy.
M: It is delicious, but it’s pretty time consuming… even though we’re meeting at 3pm, do you think we have time?
L: Totally! My cookbook says it only takes half an hour to assemble, and 20 minutes to bake!
M: Your cookbook is lying to you.
L: My cookbook never lies.
M: Yep, on this occasion, it does.
L: I have the ingredients, see you this arvo!
It turns out we’re both right. Baklava is delicious, the process isn’t that hard, and it takes much MUCH longer than 30 minutes to assemble. More like 2 hours. We didn’t even manage to finish chopping the nuts in half an hour. Good thing we had 10 months of news to catch up on.
Things we learnt while making Baklava:
– ‘rustically’ chopped nuts are totally a viable replacement for ‘finely’ chopped nuts. (ie Leah did not chop the nuts as finely as Miranda. And no harm was ultimately done.)
– filo pastry is as tricky to separate and make workable sheets as we both remembered. (Especially when you forget to take it out of the freezer to defrost properly first)
– You can never have too much butter. (Said our stomachs to our brains)
– You can have too much sugar syrup. (Said the kitchen floor to the mop at 11:45 pm)
– It’s hard to take things out of the oven while wearing banjo fingerpicks.
– You can’t test the readiness of baked goods with banjo fingerpicks.
– The sheer joy of seeing the baklava come out of the oven looking and smelling like baklava makes it all totally worthwhile.
– Sugar syrup transfers itself to any and all surfaces with amazing speed and a dexterity that surpasses it’s liquid state.
– Baklava takes more than half an hour to make.
We stuck to the ‘rules’ of cake bombing, and only used the baking time to make up our song. But as previously mentioned: we had a bit of extra time to plan while making this quick and easy dessert. Much of that time was spent debating the lineage of baklava; is it Greek, or is it Middle Eastern? Also: is it related to the clothing item the Balaclava? Also: which came first? the dessert or the suburb? (A- Turkey; No, the Balaclava is named after the headgear worn by the British in the 1854 Battle of Balaclava in the Crimean war; neither, the suburb is named after the aforementioned battle, with one more syllable than the dessert. I need to get out of my northside bubble. Interesting side fact, many streets in Balaclava are named after battles and people in the Crimean war, including: Alma Rd and Inkerman Rd.)
We also discussed the form of CakeBombing, and decided to up the ante, somewhat, and make an entry song. Hopefully this little ditty will put the Cake-Bomb-ees at ease, and set the scene for CakeBombing as a performative concept, and as a literal performance more than just a super fun way to deliver cake. It’s a small move, but someone’s got to do it! We’ve also decided to bow at the end of our song before running away. Therefore opening and closing the hallowed performance space, after arriving unannounced and running away in fits of (professional) giggles.
Here is a video of the entire Cake Bomb experience for this week, including the intro song:
We surpassed ourselves this week. We upped the ante, and went to 3 cake bombs in the one night. Other new developments included kids being at all 3 houses, and all 3 houses belonged to artist and musician friends that we really respect, admire, and hope to work with again at some stage. It was a nerve wracking Baklava filled evening.
First: AS. We love his enthusiasm. He’s the first cake-bomb-ee to take a taster of tasty treats before we’d even entered the premises. Much respect to a sweet tooth that bold!
Second: we went to NT’s house. Awkwardly, he was teaching a lesson that went overtime. This led to us hanging out outside his house for half an hour, holding a banjo, an accordian, a plate of Baklava, and whispering frantically about what to do. It’s not fair to interrupt someones music lesson, but we had Baklava seeping sugar syrup all over the streets, and a time limit to get to cakebomb #3 for the evening.
Here’s a video that’s so long and absurd it borders on bad documentary making. I tried to edit this down, but it’s length and awkwardness really sums up the experience for us. A few technical issues here, including NT laughing so hard he just swung the camera around his knees. It’s a compliment.
Number 3! PB! She was having a dinner party, so it was excellent timing. In fact, we were so late that it may have been the perfect time for a delivery of all singing all dancing Baklava.
Problems encountered on this Cake Bombing adventure:
– singing in tune.
– remembering to play our instruments.
– remembering the words. (We only got the words “nothing rhymes with Baklava” right once. They were also possibly my favourite lyrics. So it’s a lesson tinged with sadness.)
– ethical dilemmas about interrupting music lessons.
– the terrible focus of my camera. I think purchasing a cheap video camera may be in our future. Can we get a grant for that?
– cakebombing people we work with, and would normally be thoroughly prepared before embarking on any musical rehearsal or performance with, is nerve wracking.
Things we learnt and debated:
– 3 cake bombees in an evening is actually really doable. It also gave a pretty wide range of performances from us.
– Miranda literally snorts while laughing and trying to be quiet.
– The question of the polished or unpolished nature of Cake Bombing. Is our haphazard ability charming? Or a bit obnoxious? Should we be aiming to make our performances more reliable, and therefore stick to what we know we can perform smoothly? Or is the limit pushing nature of this work actually as much aimed at us as at the audiences?
Here are the lyrics to our song about Baklava:
Baklava! Baklava! Every one loves Baklava!
I love Baklava! You love Baklava! Now you have some homemade Baklava!
When I woke up this morning, there was something in the air
the baklava was calling
We knew we had to share.
So. We. Made:
Baklava! Baklava! Nothing rhymes with Baklava!
I love Baklava! I love Baklava!
Now you have some home made Baklava!
Bonus! Miranda singing a little ditty she wrote during the opera season, when there was no time for cakebombing. The best solution is obviously more songs on tiny instruments.
(The closing punchline got lost in the laptop speakers, and it’s my favourite: “if there’s something I’ve learnt from playing opera all day long, when it comes to creativity, 3 chords are better than one”)