Hmm, well, where do I begin? Oh yes, the standard health warning. One slice of this cake will probably add an inch to your hips. For this cake we require a heavier sponge than a standard victoria, rich with extra butter and eggs, heaven scented with the unmistakable aroma of chocolate. Three layers, each separated by a generous dollop of black cherry jam (freshly made of course) This filling however, you can only see after the first slice has been cut, glistening jam sliding down the newly exposed surface of the cut, a few quickly snatched crumbs the only remaining sign a piece of cake ever stood on that spot. The outside is covered in a thick layer of chocolate icing, buttercream flavoured with melted plain chocolate. All this is covered in tiny curls of best belgian chocolate then lightly dusted with icing sugar, a sugary snow to offset the rich colouring of this dark little temptress. As the knife pushes gently down through each layer, the soft buttercream sticks to the blade, dragging with it broken flakes from the chocolate curls which catch in the sliding jam. Only the sponge resists the knife, it's springy texture compressing beneath the blade until the sharp edge pierces the slightly crisper surface which once lay under the ovens glare. The eater cups their hands protectively against each piece, wrapped here (it being a picnic) in a paper napkin and bends their head towards the cake. Lips curve into a smile as the heady smell of chocolate drifts up to flared nostrils and each bite is smiling taken. Stray crumbs tumble down upon their clothes, to be laughingly brushed away. The same hand then raises, to wipe (with yet another napkin if you're neat, or fingers if you plan to lick them afterwards) the sticky smear of icing, melting chocolate curls and jam that leave a telltale trace upon satisfied lips. Mood food. Good mood food. I'll let you have a piece if you want. Size 12 here I come! Shanna :-) now feeling quite faint with greed.