A Tale Of Two Cakes

It was just over a year ago that Bert took over baking the family birthday cakes, and I was only too happy to let him. Our system was simple: we agreed on what he’d bake, I went shopping for the ingredients, and then I laid everything out – the recipe, the scales, the bowls, the spoons, the tins, and their liners.

Bert would assemble and bake the cake, take it from the oven, and leave it to cool. I prepared everything for the icing and decoration, and Bert handled the finishing touches. We’d stand back to admire the cake. Compliments would be lavished upon Bert. Afterwards, I cleared away and washed up.

The very first cake Bert baked was for Martha. He chose the recipe, though neither of us remembers which one, and the photographs don’t offer many clues. What is clear from the pictures is that Martha didn’t look especially pleased to receive it. At the time, this is what I wrote, back in 2024:

‘When a young woman hits her mid-teens she may not be just as excited about birthday cake as she once was. But that's OK. When you've experienced many birthdays, you can be excused for feeling a certain ennui.’

As it turned out, I was wrong. Nearly a year later, the real reason came to light.

In 2024 Martha had been asked what cake she wanted for her birthday and she’d asked for chocolate. Didn’t matter what recipe I picked, just let it be chocolate. Then Bert decided he’d make the cake and I let him choose the recipe. It wasn’t chocolate. I was so excited for him to be baking the cake that I forgot Martha’s request.

Bless her. She never said at the time, but she could not help feeling disappointed. It wasn’t teenage angst at all. Well, maybe it was – just a teeny-tiny bit.

.

I chose Zoe's photograph because it showed Miss Martha (now a sweet 16) beaming her beamiest smile.

Chocolate, mascarpone and cherry cake

Happy Birthday, Martha!

All the Sixes

 

Bert's birthday today. All the sixes!

After the family left I said to Bert,

The girls don't get nearly as excited about birthday cake and candles as they used to.

And it's true. They are teenagers now and are way too cool for candles and cake. But we still have the memories,

...and the photographs!

Happy birthday, Bert!

Birthday Cake

It's sad if the birthday girl has to make her own cake, so I asked Bert to do it. All I had to do was choose the recipe, buy the ingredients, set everything out for him and go take a Duolingo lesson or three. 

I forgot to photograph the cake but the Hummingbird Bakery Cake Days book has a very nice picture which is almost exactly how Bert's cake turned out. 

It was yummy although the baker himself said,

Too much frosting and far too sweet.

Cleo had no complaints. Again no photograph, but if I had grabbed my camera when I caught her on the table snarfing my cake I could have captioned it, 

Le chien est sur la table et elle mange mon gateau !

Thats about my level in French. It might be a while before I can tackle that French translation of Apeirogon.

My Week

 On Monday I picked Vee up and we went grocery shopping. I had my list and whizzed around Tesco in no time, then raced out to the car and read my book (The Axeman’s Carnival). Vee must have been in nippy form too as I only had a few pages read before she was out piling bottled water into the back of the car. I never buy bottled water. Am I odd? Afterwards we went to the Ecos Centre coffee shop to find it closed. Why do places close on Bank Holidays. I find that odd. So, it was on to Creative Gardens for a light lunch. I took a photograph of mine and sent it to Bert for complete badness. Am I a bad bitch? Answer – yes.

Back home I baked Bert a birthday cake and made a start on a curry, Mangalorean Catholic style. Don’t know about you but it was new to me. And it was hot!!! The reason I was preparing Tuesday’s food on Monday? I had a coffee date.

So up on Tuesday morning, chores, shower, ironing… Ironing? Yes. Ironing. Meeting one’s peers one wants to look one’s best. As I was about to leave the house there was an issue with a mouse. A shrew mouse in the slavering jaws of Woody de Cat. I saved it and deposited a protesting Woody in the house. I was going to be at least 5 minutes late and me well-known for my punctuality.

Off to Portglenone, found the coffee shop, a new one. Despite being slightly late I was first to arrive. Again. I bagged the best table in the shop. (Won’t they be pleased.) Settled down to wait. Five minutes pass. Then another five. I had a little niggle. I knew I was in the right place but was it the right time? I checked our WhatsApp group. It was the right place and the right time but I was early. A whole week early. All I could do was laugh.

Back home to finish the preparations for Bert’s birthday supper. Frosted his cake (chocolate orange cake, Nigella recipe) and complete the curry. It was hot, hot, hot. Decided to make a milder one for the girls, Thai red curry. They do like spicy food but not too spicy.

All went well. The curries were good, and the cake was rich and delicious.

Waiting for the cake

Wednesday was an at-home day. I started cleaning the larder and became overwhelmed. So much stuff came out of it, I wondered how I was going to fit it all back in, although dumping all the out-of-date stuff helped. I abandoned the project and had an early night which I needed as I’d been wakened by the dogs at five am and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep.

Thursday. I finished the larder and was so pleased with the achievement that I kept opening the doors, looking in and feeling delight. The rest of the house a tip but the larder was clean, fresh and well-ordered. Then off to pick up the girls who are very happy to have finished their summer exams. They asked if the could have Netflix and I agreed and half an hour later I found them watching Bridgerton. Oh dear. If I remember rightly the first season was quite risque in parts. M said she was coping but that E was finding it a little cringey.

Friday. This morning, when I woke up I found myself recalling a not unpleasant dream. I tried to bring it back – something about Donald Trump in court, being found guilty of crimes. Then it dawned on me that this had really happened. What a way to start the day.

Despite this, I was irritable this morning. My larder joy had dissipated and I had to deal with other chores. Of course, just as I’d finished mopping the kitchen floor, Bert got up and he and the dogs trampled all over it. I told him about Mr Trump and he said, Who told you? This annoyed me. It’s as if he thinks I am not capable of finding out things for myself and must wait until someone else informs me. Which is how he (mostly) experiences the world. 

Later on we were called upon by two young lads, one anti-woke and the other fearful of Islam. They annoyed the fuck out of me. I wonder where they get their news?

 

Best part of the week? Finding that the spotted flycatchers have taken up residence in their old home above the front door.

More Cake

 

There was more birthday cake yesterday when the girls were here for supper. Rhubarb and Almond cake, a new one for me. I thought it was a bit stodgy but that didn't stop me from eating it. 

There are a whole series of pictures of Bert and those two with birthday cakes. This one is from ten years ago.

Today I went to lunch with Jazzer. There is no photographic record of this event. We did a little light shopping afterwards in Antrim town where she acquired some pre-loved garments and I bought a copy of The Dud Avocado which was on my reading wish list. I had a good opportunity to read the first chapter in the Asda car park while Jazzer went in for a 'couple of things'. As always she was about half an hour. Bert has remarked before that when she goes into a shop she generally picks up a shift stacking shelves. I didn't really mind as the book was good. Turned out she got into a really slow queue and then, on leaving, the alarm went off and she had to have her receipt checked. Somebody forgot to take the tag off her new summer shorts. I'd have been raging if that had happened to me.

Back home to find Bert had eaten nearly all the pizza from Bamber Pizzeria. Fair play to him as no one had taken him out for lunch. He left me just enough to know it was yummy.

Afterwards, we had the sad task of taking an expired chicken out to the woods for the foxes to feast upon. But who could be sad in the woods on such a beautiful evening? Not us, certainly not Cleo.

A Momentous Day

This morning I woke up early this and finished reading my book on Princess Margaret.*  What a dragon!

There were two Chocolate Guinness cakes to make and the house was a mess because I'd had a busy couple of days. 

Me doing absolutely nothing. Except for drinking and it's not even dark outside.

I was making cake for a special day and as I started to gather the ingredients I watched the State Funeral. Watching TV whilst baking is not something I'd normally do but, y'know... history, pageantry, human interest, military bands, Princess Charlotte, the Duchess of Sussex,** and Michelle O'Neill. 

The cakes turned out fine and at last, the special guest arrived, Martha the Teenager! As well as Nigella's Chocolate Guinness Cake we had Spaghetti Bolognese made with some very ripe tomatoes that Bert poached from Clint. It was good. 

Something tells me that I will remember forever what happened on the 19th of September 2022. 

* It's been that kind of week.

** Oxford comma placed in solidarity with the NHS.

Frothy Goat Deity

 Happy Birthday, Zoë. 

Conversation with Martha at the supper table.

Granny, remember how your cakes used to be like biscuits?

I do. I remember you telling me so.

How come they're not flat any more?

Your mother told me about baking powder.

Previous birthday cakes that demonstrate varying levels of flatness.

What Kept Me From Blogging

On the day before Christma Eve Bert and I took the girls on separate outings. Martha and I went for a hunt around the charity shops and to find a present for Hannah. Bert and Evie went for a walk to the waterfall on Essathohan Burn. That turned out rather a damp expedition and they went home early to light roaring fires and watch telly.

But there was no stopping Martha and Granny. As always we had our traditional short-lived falling out which always clears the air and establishes that I just have to accept that we will be going into at least twenty different shops. And that Martha will dance. She does that – just starts dancing in the middle of a shop or on the pavement. Wherever there she sees a space she fills it with dancing. I don’t mind. She’s rather good at it.

Christmas Eve, I cooked, baked and wrapped the last of the presents. I had gifted Bert a promise that I would not get cranky with him on the three Christmas Days and found that I was able to share a kitchen with him as we each baked a cake. He was making a London Cheesecake, How To Be A Domestic Goddess, p152 and I was doing Sicilian Orange and Almond Cake, Penny Stephens Italian p234. They both turned out well. We had Bert’s on Christmas Day and mine on Boxing Day.

Christmas Day was all about the trimmings. Sad (not sad) that I forgot to cook the Brussels sprouts. We had Hannah and Fergus with us and afterwards, we played a rude and politically incorrect card game which was a lot of fun.

More cooking on Boxing Day. I did chicken and ham and made a couple of trifles, one alcoholic and one for kids and drivers. It was a family night and after eating we played charades, Truth or Dare and other silly games. Although Blind Man’s Buff was forbidden on Health and Safety grounds. 

Day after Boxing Day. We’d nothing planned and were looking forward to some peace and quiet. Then we weren’t as the Banjos were coming. More food! Jazzer brought her famous red pepper soup and a pavlova. After we’d eaten we enjoyed an entertainment we devised which involved taking turns choosing music on YouTube. This kept us entertained for nearly four hours and the music chosen ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous or, to put it another way, from Prince to Willie Drennan.

Marty Banjo introduced me to an amazing artist who goes by the name of LP. Somehow I’d never heard of her and, going by her androgynous and very fetching appearance, I actually had to go online to check her pronouns.

To finish, a good Christmas holiday but I’m awfully glad it’s over. We couldn't finish the pavlova though so Bert did something illegal and gave it to Rusty and Lily. Sorry DAERA but it was CHRISTMAS! The pigs loved it.

Cake

 

Another birthday today, as Evie and Martha's Daddy just had a significant one. I hope he was well pleased with Ireland's win this afternoon. Not a bad way to spend a birthday.

Evie is pictured above waiting for the first of her birthday cakes but then, she's always waiting for cake. The two girls made their Dad's birthday cake today, their favourite, Chocolate Guinness Cake. For Dave's birthday tea this coming Monday I will be attempting to emulate the delectable ginger cake served at Angel and Cathal's wedding party last week. I did have the opportunity to speak with the baker but she gave nothing away apart from the fact that she used three times the amount of ginger she'd normally use. Luckily our birthday boy is a big fan of ginger and as his tastebuds have been slightly impaired by his recent brush with the dread virus, three times the usual amount of ginger will likely be the right amount.

I'm not sure if Martha didn't think that having to bake her father's cake was an imposition akin to forced labour but I assured her that she needed the practice as I am expecting her to bake my cake next September. For I'm never making my own cake ever again. If this does not happen there will be a soup course served instead. And, as everyone knows, soup doesn't work with birthday candles. 

Friday Saturday Sunday Monday

Friday

We had Lulu from Leitrim staying with us for a couple of nights while her humans attended a wedding in Belfast. Friday was her last day so I took a few photographs to mark her visit. Her humans arrived earlier than expected (looking rather tired, if I may say so) and as is always the case with dog visitors she hopped into their car with nary a backward glance at the woman whose bed she had shared for two nights running. Never let it be said that I don't give visiting dogs a warm (1) welcome.

Saturday

Bert finally got around to putting up the nesting boxes that Dee Mac made for us. 

This one is ours. 

And this is the one that Hannah picked. It has an elemental and slightly malevolent look to it and that is probably why she chose it. I'm hopeful that the birds will find and use them in the spring. 

I hate to say it, but Judy, Jess and Ziggy were glad to see the back end of Princess Lulu. Ziggy was also sleeping over and he was not at all pleased at having to share Aunt Granny's bed with an entitled Jack Russell terrier. Still, he had me all to himself on Saturday night.

Sunday

Ziggy and I collected Hannah from the airport on Sunday morn. They were very pleased to see each other.

I spent the rest of the day doing chores and even managed to drag myself outside for an hour. I chopped down most of the tomatoes (they are still fruiting!) and pricked out snapdragons I grew from the seed Les gave me. I also checked the fruit on the chilli bush (another gift from Les) and wondered if I should make more chilli jam.

It's a Carolina Reaper, supposed to be the world's hottest chilli. 

Monday

The weather forecast for the rest of the week promises temperatures of up to  19°c in some parts of the UK. Here in Northern Ireland, we can expect rain and lots of it. The rest of the news all seems to be about climate change, no doubt because of the coming Cop26 conference in Glasgow.

Meanwhile, in my kitchen,  my main concern is for this evening's family meal. We are having Tagliatelle Bolognese and I'm trying out a new recipe for coconut cake. It's a Nigella and is supposed to have Malibu in the icing but dearie me no. Malibu on a Monday? My Presbyterian (2) great-great-grandfather would turn in his grave up there at the Sallagh Braes. 

Nigella has this great idea of soaking the desiccated coconut in boiling water and it has made for a soft and delicious cake. Someday that's not a Monday I will soak the coconut in Malibu.

(1) Lulu really appreciated my electric blanket.

(2) There is a rumour that Jacob Steen might have been Jewish. I have 6% Eastern European ancestry in my DNA so perhaps he was.

Better Late Than Never

Monday is the day when Zoe tends to her vegetable garden and I make supper for everyone. When Martha was old enough to appreciate birthday celebrations I'd make a cake on the Monday closest to a birthday. It's lucky that none of our birthdays fall in the winter months as that's when Zoe takes a break from gardening.

Martha's birthday supper should have been two weeks ago but then they all got Covid-19 and had to isolate. Luckily Zoe was symptomless so could continue working. She can do her job from home so that wasn't a problem. Today was her first day back at the plot and Marthas delayed birthday celebration. She asked for enchiladas and Chocolate Guinness cake (Nigella recipe) and I obliged. No expense was spared with just one exception - I recycled the extra-long candles from Robin's cake. (Dougie's Goodies, delicious.)

Evie's birthday is next. Thank goodness Martha was quick about blowing out those candles. We'll get another turn out of them yet.

 

 

Quiet Saturday

 Crocus in the garden, with monkey puzzle in the background

I was awakened by the dogs at ten past six, then waited until seven before going to get my Saturday Guardian. I buy it once a week at my local garage, and the rest of the week I read it online. There were more people around than usual, one man doing a fairly big shop. I filled a basket too, milk, 4-pack of toilet roll, bleach, cheese, chocolate. Life's neccessities. I sidestepped the other customers as much as I could and kept a very decent distance from Hans.

The tightening of restrictions in the sensible part of Ireland was mentioned and it was said that it might be time for a proper lockdown here too. There are a lot of people who are flouting the advice/rules, whatever it is.

Bert has been ever so slightly getting on my nerves these past few days and I'm sure I've been getting on his. But I had a thought, this...

If I have to be closed up at home with one other human being, Bert is a good one. He is patient, kind, funny and so what if he doesn't put the milk back in the fridge or the lid on the tea caddy? To show my gratitude I baked him a cake and didn't use a recipe. I put apricot jam in it and plain yogurt and it was lovely.

 A patch of wood anemone in Bert's wood

The first few days of staying at home were unsettling. I spent far too much time online, scrolling through news sites, coronavirus updating and Twitter. I exhausted myself so much that I could barely read for pleasure. These past few days I've been spending less time online and more time gardening, walking and reading. And weird tasks like degunking the shower outlet.

And I've pulled a chair over to the window in my bedroom and sometimes I sit there, reading, or just watching the chickens. It's very peaceful especially as there are far fewer vehicles on our road.

Bert has just called me to watch the final episode of  This Country. Stay safe everyone.

Food Critic

Kerry Sister tells me that the part of Ireland she lives is full of people who would begrudge you a compliment. That way of thinking is described in the phrase,

Sure, she wouldn't give it t'ye.

Here, in the North, we are fulsome with our kind words and praises.

Sure your hair is lovely! Where did ye get it done?

You're lookin' great! Have ye lost weight?

Look at ye! You're getting younger looking every time I see ye!

That's the North for you. (Or maybe that was just Sheena?)

Now, Bert. Bert wouldn't give it t'ye a-tall. Especially when it comes to cooking. When it comes to cooking he's a harsher critic even than Martha. Swisser still talks about the time he went to the Sizzlin' Sausage rather than partake of another of her low-fat, vegetarian stews. So, I suppose I should know better than to ask him if he enjoyed anything I've cooked.

Did you like the chicken soup?

It was alright.

What do you mean? What was wrong with it?

I don't really like chicken soup. The stock was cooked too long. It tasted boney.

Or,

What did you think of the pasta sauce?

Too tomatoey.

Or,

Did you enjoy your porridge?

Did you put salt in it?

But we hit a new low the other day. I'd been making beetroot wine using some giant beetroot that Zoe grew. With root veg, I only use the liquor they are boiled in so the pigs get the actual veg.

I asked Bert,

Did the pigs like their yummy grub?

They didn't seem that fussed about it.

I can't even please the pigs with my cooking! I'm going to stop asking him and just sling the hash and let him and the pigs like it or lump it!

Now here is someone who enjoys my food. Especially when it is chocolate Aero birthday cake.

The Daily Photograph 12

Above - some of the firewood that Evie, Martha and I collected from under the beech trees on Thursday. I was far too tired today to even take a single photograph never mind gather wood. That is what comes from attending two social gatherings in one day coincidentally both at the same hotel. The midday funeral reception were taken at the Dunsilly Hotel outside Antrim. The evening found us back at Dunsilly for a  wedding party. First go round we went in the front door, later on through the tradesman's entrance for we'd got a lift with the band. The backs of hotels are a lot different from front entrances I can assure you.

Sheena's funeral was very traditional, and very Tannaghmore which is just how she'd have wanted it to be. The choir sang all the old hymns, even a beautiful rendition of Tantum Ergo, a hymn I have always loved and which brought back memories of all the Benediction services we attended as children.

In the graveyard the subject of this blog was raised (it often is at funerals) by one of the cousins, who made sure to tell an old school friend all about its delights. This made me feel a bit worried as I was back in a comfortable way of thinking that there are just the three readers, Ganching, Grannymar and Brighid. And this oul blog is just a bit of nonsense I keep up out of a sense of duty.

The school friend asked,

How long have you been doing it?

And I replied,

Ten years, maybe eleven. 

Then I added, rather sadly,

And I never got offered a book deal.

And I thought to myself,

Nor even got short listed for the Irish Blog Awards. Hell damn the Irish Blog Awards. But at least I got to be part of the UK Web Archive. Then I noticed that even they stopped archiving The Garden four years ago. That must have been when I got boring. Sigh.

But back to the Dunsilly. The wedding party was excellent, lots of sparkling alcohol and nibbles. There were people of all ages from three months old to older than me. The craic was mighty. There were awkward moments. One when I'd just got myself a finger of wedding cake and then struck up a conversation with a very tall young man. I did not like to stuff cake into my mouth as I gazed up at him so held it casually in my hand. Then it started to melt. What else could I do but accidentally drop it on the floor and kick it under a chair. Actually there were probably a lot more sensible things I could have done but when the sparkling alcohol is in, the wit's out.

A Cake For Music Night

Peaches. We had so many peaches this year. I took the last of the fruit off the trees today. Our trees are growing in the poly tunnel and we are learning to manage them as we go along. I pollinate by hand in early spring. Peach blossoms early when there are not many helpful insects around. There must be some though because I don't hand pollinate the two trees that Bert is attempting to train in a fan shape. They cropped but not heavily. The third year the top of the free standing tree broke under the weight of the ripening fruit and we lost half the crop. This year I did extensive thinning, the tree remained intact and the crop was wonderful.

Les Bamber's wonderful picture of peach blossom taken in our poly tunnel in 2012.

Anyone who came to the house got a bag of peaches, I froze a lot for cooking and wine (peaches make a delicious wine) and made a quite a few desserts.

Tonight, our turn to host music night, I made a cake. It's the easiest cake ever. I used sliced peaches but there are lots of alternatives such as apples, raspberries, plums, anything fruity and juicy.

Ingredients

100g butter
100g caster sugar
150g plain flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (use cinnamon if using apples)
2 eggs
100ml milk
A quantity of sliced peaches (I used five/six)

Method

Melt the butter and let it cool slightly. Add everything else except the fruit. Mix to a batter. I used a hand held mixer. Add the fruit and add the mixture to a standard sized, greased pie dish. Bake at 190 degrees for 30 minutes then cover with greaseproof paper and bake a further 15 minutes.

Tonight I lined my pie dish with greaseproof paper to make for easier slicing. The music night boys loved it. Brendan is after the recipe and Rod dreamed of custard. I know what's for dessert next time he comes for supper. Les said I shouldn't tell anyone how easy it was to put together, but you know me, honest as the day is long.

Now the next thing is to top the free standing tree as it is brushing the roof of the poly tunnel. According to the books pruning should be done in February. Must get that on my list of Things To Do.

The fruit in this picture is very pretty but it should have been thinned. This was Clint's tree and it broke in half that year. It never recovered.

Valentine's Day

Previous post. Eamon came to no harm. The wean just got a bit of salt spray in her eyes and panicked.

So moving on. I've been on a steep learning curve this week. Most of what I've learned has been much too profound to write about near midnight so I'll leave it to another time.

I'll share this. I learned not to go to Belfast without checking the weather forecast. Moments after leaving Botanic station today I was soaked. My plan had been to walk to Asia Supermarket on the Ormeau Road, then stroll along the Stranmillis Embankment and make my way through Botanic gardens, stopping at the museum for coffee before heading to Great Victoria Street and home. Instead I ran dripping into the Oxfam Bookshop, bought Bert some clarinet sheet music, myself a map of Belfast, then to some other charity shop where I bought a Viyella zip up cardigan before racing to Great Victoria Street and the train home. That would be the completely free train home. I love my SmartPass.

Then tonight Bert went off musicking leaving me the television all to myself. A rare treat. I watched Hinterland. And when Bert came home he brought two pieces of the most fabulous Valentine's Day cake that was ever made in County Antrim. How fortunate are we to know someone studying the Culinary Arts? Thank you Kelly Ann. It was sublime. Chocolate covered strawberries, heart-shaped candy, strawberry cheesecake pieces... oh lordy, lordy!

Kelly Ann's wonderful Valentine's Day cake

Christmas Eve Baking Sesh

Nellybert baked three cakes today. To be more precise Nelly baked two, Bert baked one and Martha helped. At first Martha was not impressed with the process. She wanted a special spoon to stir the ginger biscuit crumbs and no spoon we could offer her was special enough.

Bert thought that a taste of Nigella's Orange-Chocolate Cake mixture would cheer her up. After all, Nigella's always licking the spoon and she always looks happy.

I think Bert's ploy worked. Martha identified the chocolate but did not pick out the orange (marmalade) flavour.

Afterwards I suggested Bert help us clear up but he demurred.

I'm away out now to dung out those calves.

And you're not expecting any help?

Not a-tall.

That'll do then.

The Temptation of Nelly

I have heard that practitioners of Feng Shui would have it that the attic area of our homes represents our hopes and dreams for the future, and that an attic bunged solid with the usual detritus and junk blocks those hopes and dreams. With this in mind I plugged myself into the translater’s notes for Don Quixote and headed for the poor man’s Aladdin’s Cave that is our roofspace. Oh the stuff! And we’ve only been here a few years. After twenty minutes I had managed to throw out three things, had rearranged several more and decided to allow Bert’s grandfather back down the stairs. His reappearance will annoy Pearlie as she didn’t get on with him. Now the only thing to decide is whether to hang him in her room or just outside it. Just outside it would probably be best as I make a point without being too cruel.

 

I was just wondering what to do with Bert’s old pram when that very face appeared at the top of the staircase.

 

“Do you feel like being naughty?” he enquired.

 

Naturally my first instinct was to kick him back down the stairs. However I refrained, pointed to my headphones and roared, “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!

 

He said, “No! Not that kind of naughty.” and produced ice cream. What could I do? I ate it. I’m finding it so very hard to resist temptation these days.

 

Then there was the other day. Hannah made one of her yummy curries and I had a good helping with rice and naan bread. That should have been enough for me. But no – next thing Jakers produces a gigantic slab of caramel shortcake and waves it under my nose. I say, “Oh no. I shouldn’t.” He says, “It’s OK. It’s not cake or anything,” I had to agree. It may have been a concoction of sugar, fat, flour, condensed milk and chocolate but it wasn’t actually CAKE. So I ate it.

 

Then there’s all the sweets and biscuits that Bert and Hannah bring into the house. I tell them to hide it from me so that I won’t be tempted. And they do. They hide it in the second drawer down in the wee red IKEA cabinet in the TV room. And sometimes they even leave the drawer open so that I can see that they've hidden it. 

Curry, Crackers and Chocolate

What does Christmas mean to me? Easy. Cookin' and bakin'!

On Christmas Day we plan to forgo the traditional roast dinner. This Christmas we're having curry.
The reason is Bert and I are, as has become traditional, making more of our Boxing Day dinner. That's the day Zoe, Dave and the dogs and a few others can come and it's always more fun.

Today I'm baking Nigella's Dense Chocolate Loaf Cake which we're having on Boxing Day with Zoe's homemade coconut ice cream. Chocolate and coconut! Mmmm.... My two favourite dessert ingredients.

Seven Puddings

The Aftermath, originally uploaded by ZMB.

For dinner we had beef, turkey, lamb and ham. The seven puddings were -

1. Tirimasu (Italian Cookshelf, Penny Stephens) Very popular. None left. Nick said it was pisano because it was a bit rough looking. Made by me. Used madeira cake instead of sponge fingers.

2. Sicilian Orange & Almond Cake (Italian Cookshelf, Penny Stephens) Also made by me. Very yummy. Would recommend the recipe as it was very easy to make.

3. Chocolate and Chestnut Truffle Cake. A River Cottage recipe which was made by Katy. Very rich and very delicious.

4. Mulled Wine Jelly. Made by me. Terribly alcoholic. Needs some work as it didn't set as well as I'd hoped. Recipe from Sunday Times magazine.

5. Apple Tart. Source unknown. Brought by Ploppypants.

6. Christmas Pudding. Shop bought. Brought by Jenny.

7. Pear Sponge. Thrown together by me on Christmas Eve after Bert's Aunt Lizzie requested it for Christmas Day lunch. At centre of culinary disaster when it 'sliped' out off dish on to oven door during cooking. Was sliped back in and served up anyway.

There would have been eight puddings had I remembered to make the 'Special' Brownies. Perhaps the forgetting was God's way of telling me that excess should have some limits.

Tiramisu recipe (Serves 6 incredibly greedy people OR around a dozen folk with six other puddings to fall back on)

Ingredients:
300 g (10 1/2 oz) dark chocolate
400 g (14 oz) mascarpone cheese
150 ml/5 fl oz (2/3 cup) double (heavy) cream, whipped until it just holds its shape
400 ml/14 fl oz black coffee with 50 g (1 3/4 oz) caster (superfine) sugar, cooled
6 tbsp dark rum or brandy
36 sponge fingers (lady-fingers)
about 400 g (14 oz) cocoa powder, to dust

1. Melt the chocolate in a bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water, stirring occasionally. Leave the chocolate to cool slightly, then stir it into the mascarpone and cream.

2. Mix the coffee and rum together in a bowl. Dip the sponge fingers (lady-fingers) into the mixture briefly so that they absorb the liquid but do not become soggy.

3. Place 3 sponge fingers on 3 (4?) serving plates.

4. Spoon a layer of the mascarpone and chocolate mixture over the sponge fingers.

5. Place 3 more sponge fingers on top of the mascarpone layer. Spread another layer of mascarpone and chocolate mixture and place 3 more sponge fingers on top.

6. Leave the tiramisu to chill in the refridgerator for at least 1 hour. Dust with a little cocoa powder just before serving.

Cook's Tip: Tiramisu can also be served semi-frozen, like ice cream. Freeze the tiramisu for 2 hours and serve immediately as it defrosts very quickly.