THE CATS are deeply suspicious of the mixing bowl currently resting on our front room windowsill.

It smells strongly yeasty, which to a feline is probably horribly offensive. This is good because it means I don’t have to worry about small, furry paws going where they shouldn’t. It certainly won’t do to get any cat hair in the frothing gloop that I have been feeding and nurturing for the past 10 days.

Yes, I am the proud owner of a Herman the German friendship cake starter culture. I’ve already made the cake - which was moistly delicious - and now I’m looking for friends to ‘infect.’

I’ve ear-marked my pal Cathy, who possesses superior baking skills and will take the responsibility seriously; and I’m planning to deliver some to a rarely-seen but lovely neighbour.

Firstborn has declined to be part of the cake supply ring on the grounds that he has exams, which is a shame because he’s such a keen cook that he has his own foodie blog.

My friend Susan is also a possible candidate, but as she’s a teacher with SATS responsibilities I’m concerned that she won’t have the time to care for Herman and I don’t like to think of his offspring end up in a compost bucket.

The search goes on.

If you have yet to learn about Herman then let me put you in the picture. Friendship cakes are currently so fashionable that if you haven’t made one there’s a strong chance that you will any day soon.

They are being hailed as the edible ‘chain letter’ but I don’t think this a very kind way to describe Herman. After all, chain letters come with implied threats and give no pleasure to anyone. Cakes, on the other hand, are the way to everyone’s heart and one of life’s greatest delights.

I first heard about these ‘viral cakes’ from colleague Anne-Marie, whose neighbour handed her a small bowl containing Herman’s ‘genetic material’ and a sheet of paper with instructions.

As the busy working mother of three small children she was initially a little nonplussed. “I’d just put away all the baking things,” she said.

But she decided to give Herman a go and was pleasantly surprised with the results. She passed some on to another colleague and last week brought in a small pot of starter dough for me to try.

And that’s how it goes. You take a portion, feed it with flour, sugar and milk, rise it, divide it, bake some and pass on what you don’t use.

There are countless websites on the internet devoted to Herman, with recipes and advice aplenty. The basic cake recipe is for a continental sourdough fruit cake, but it is possible to personalise it with your own favourite ingredients.

The cake is said to have its origins in the sourdough bread products made by early American settlers, who created a culture from airborne yeasts and then passed the ‘living’ dough around the community. Some artisan bread is still made this way. The Amish - with their German origins - are credited with the creation of sourdough ‘cake’, as they used cinnamon as a flavouring.

It’s entirely possible that some sourdough cultures were started many decades ago. I know of one artisan baker who uses a yeast culture that can be traced back to Russia in the 1970s.

And that, I suppose, is one of the intriguing things about friendship cakes. They have a certain mysterious, timeless quality.

However, not everyone is thrilled with the concept.

There are also lots of stories on the internet about the tyranny of Herman the German. Reluctant bakers have complained that they were coerced or bullied into accepting a starter culture and then felt guilty if they didn’t pass it on themselves. Some claim that they had to creep out in the dead of night to leave little bowls of dough and letters of instruction on people’s doorsteps.

But why they feel this way is unclear because all they had to do if they didn’t want to bake was put Herman in the bin and keep their lips sealed.

I suspect they’re missing the point.

Friendship cakes are just one of many ways to cement relationships and make new friends; to feel part of a community. And no-one ever said that making and maintaining friendships was effortless. We all need to devote time and energy to our friends, so what’s the big deal about baking a cake and feeding a bowl of gloop on a windowsill?

Instead of sharing inane FaceBook gossip they could be sharing delicious cake.