Share
IN The Thursday Murder Club, murder is the lure, but cake is the glue. Blood may thicken plots, but butter thickens batters — and Joyce’s oven is as indispensable to the Club as Elizabeth’s old spy contacts or Ibrahim’s meticulous notebooks. Cake disarms suspects, soothes nerves, and keeps police officers pliable. It’s diplomacy by sponge, interrogation by slice.
Here, then, is our Comprehensive Compendium of Cakes (& Non-Cake Bakes): as rich as Joyce’s coffee-and-walnut, as sharp as her lemon drizzle, and as neatly chequered as Garth’s Battenberg.
I. THE CAKES
1. Cherry-and-Dark-Chocolate Cake
Description: Decadent sponge folded with dark chocolate and cherries, often boozed up with Kirsch. Think of it as a leaner cousin to the Black Forest gateau — less cream, more bite.
Sociocultural note: A cake with a whiff of Continental patisserie sophistication.
In the books: Joyce originally bakes this one for Ron, but a visiting ex-KGB agent, Viktor Illyich, ends up with it. He eats the slice with relish, pronouncing it “very good.” Proof, perhaps, that diplomacy and Kirsch go hand in hand.
2. Battenberg
Description: Iconic pink-and-yellow checkerboard sponge, stitched together with jam and encased in marzipan. Precision required, nostalgia guaranteed.
Sociocultural note: A tea-table stalwart, retro but beloved — the sort of thing that appears at village fêtes and WI teas.
In the books: Garth, Samantha’s husband, bakes a “terrific” one. Joyce admits her own attempt (with stone-ground flour) wasn’t nearly as good. Later, Patrice groans she’s “half Battenberg already” after repeat helpings.
3. Coconut and Raspberry Slice
Description: Traybake comfort: sponge base, raspberry jam, desiccated coconut topping. The crunch of coconut meets the tartness of jam.
Sociocultural note: A school-canteen classic, still beloved in church halls and bake sales.
In the books: Joyce delivers coconut-and-raspberry in Tupperware to Ron, later bakes a slice “just in case” Siobhan is feeling adventurous.
4. Victoria Sponge
Description: The most British of cakes: two layers of airy sponge with jam and cream. First enjoyed by Queen Victoria with her afternoon tea.
Sociocultural note: A rite-of-passage bake, forever tied to notions of home, hearth, and teatime civility.
In the books: Joyce, ever cautious with new acquaintances, bakes one for Siobhan — safe, reliable, reassuring.
5. Cupcakes
Description: Miniature sponges in cases, crowned with swirls of buttercream. Cheerful, modern, endlessly customisable.
Sociocultural note: Once a New York trend, now firmly British-bake-sale territory.
In the books: Kendrick casually mentions icing some cupcakes — sleuthing and buttercream, side by side.
6. Lemon Drizzle
Description: A light sponge flooded with sharp-sweet lemon syrup, often crackled with sugar on top. Moist, zingy, irresistible.
Sociocultural note: A modern British classic, its tang offering a welcome jolt at the tea-table.
In the books: Joyce produces slices for DCI Hudson and PC De Freitas; Ibrahim opines it beats M&S’s version. She later parcels the last of it into a Tupperware for Chris.
Real-world recipe: The Lit Kitch recreates it with almond flour, echoing Joyce’s choice of “Anything with a Pulse” supplies — butter, superfine sugar, almond flour, eggs, lemon zest, finished with a warm drizzle of lemon juice and sugar.
7. Coffee and Walnut
Description: Coffee-flavoured sponge, peppered with walnuts, crowned with buttercream. Nutty, rich, grown-up.
Sociocultural note: A staple of British cafés and tearooms; Nigel Slater himself has declared it death-row-meal worthy.
In the books: Bernard Cottle’s favourite. Chris Hudson proclaims Joyce’s homemade version calorie-free — wishful thinking at its most charming.
Real-world recipes: A Literary Supper and Whodunnit Kitchen both recreate Joyce’s bake — roasted walnuts, instant coffee, butter, sugar, eggs, flour, and a final dusting of icing sugar.
Honourable Mention: The Poster Cake (from the Netflix adaptation)
Description: The Netflix poster famously features a Victoria-style sponge with a knife plunged in.
Real-world homage: Tina Zaccardi baked her own version — lemon-raspberry sponge, layered with whipped cream and preserves, finished with raspberry “blood” drips and a theatrical knife. A delicious wink to how cake and crime intertwine.
II. OTHER BAKES
1. Brownies
Description: Dense, fudgy squares, infinitely adaptable: plain, nut-free, almond-flour, chocolate-hazelnut, or (in Pauline’s case) marijuana-coconut.
Sociocultural note: American in origin, but thoroughly embedded in British baking culture.
In the books: Joyce plays it safe with nut-free brownies for Siobhan, treats her friends to chocolate-hazelnut ones in the car, anticipates almond-flour brownies at a vegan café, and hears Pauline’s scandalous admission about marijuana-spiked versions.
2. Viennese Whirls
Description: Buttery, piped biscuits sandwiched with jam and cream. Best-known from Mr Kipling boxes.
In the books: Joyce lays them out; Ron obligingly takes one. Own-brand, but Joyce insists they’re every bit as good.
3. Gooseberry Crumble
Description: Sharp gooseberries mellowed beneath a golden rubble of butter, flour, and sugar topping.
Sociocultural note: A kitchen-garden dessert, edging towards nostalgic obscurity as gooseberries grow rarer.
In the books: Joyce notes one “on the go” in her diary. Osman himself points out the very last line of the first book concerns Joyce’s gooseberry crumble — food as punctuation.
4. Macaroon
Description: Either coconut domes or refined French almond “macarons.”
In the books: Joyce teases Jason Ritchie, baffled he’s never made one.
5. Chocolate-Chip Cookie
Description: Golden biscuit studded with molten chocolate. Dunkable, dependable.
In the books: Martin Lomax dunks one during his Open Garden, musing whether brownies would sell better.
AFTERWORD
Thus ends our compendium — for now. Cakes and bakes in The Thursday Murder Club are never mere background dressing. They are edible olive branches, conversation starters, emotional ballast. A slice of lemon drizzle can unlock a suspect faster than a police badge; a Battenberg can outwit suspicion more effectively than a lie.
And so, dear reader, keep your fork poised. For while the gooseberry crumble cools, another body may yet be found. And Joyce, apron tied, will be ready with the next cake…
