I’m not much of a baker. In fact I’m a bit rubbish. Despite following recipes to the letter not much I’ve baked (with a handful of exceptions) has ever really turned out spectacularly. Edible, yes, but average. My mum makes beautiful cakes and my sister can knock up a mean pastry from scratch but I find the whole thing frustratingly troublesome. I love the end results of my more credible baking friends endeavours though. I love the magic that happens when butter and flour come together; either with eggs and sugar for a cake, or salt resulting in pastry, one of my favourite things. As a kid there was always a home-made cake stashed in an old biscuit tin on top of the kitchen cupboards which meant we had to climb onto the worktop to get to it, so at least we got a little excercise before devouring all that sugar! Mum made a fantastic iced toffee and walnut cake, supersweet cute little butterfly cakes – their wings created by cutting off the peaky centre of each cupcake and plunging two ‘wings’ into a pile of yellow buttercream, gorgeous chewy flapjacks sticky with golden syrup, Read the rest of this entry
Tag Archives: Baking
I think you should know I have had an epiphany!
If I’m totally honest, my earliest memories are of food. Not dolls houses, or bicycles, or sledging down the meadow. Not camping holidays, or the pet spaniel, Tinker. Or of family gathering’s at Grandma Powell’s.
Nope. They’re in fact of the picnic we took sledging (homemade butterfly cakes and soda stream), strawberry jam sandwiches at Grandma’s, and Fox’s Glacier Mints and Fruit Bon Bons in the back of the Ford Escort on the overnight trip to Padstow, then of Wagon Wheels, scampi & chips, and orange yoghurts from the milk float that used to work its way bumpily round the cliff top camping field, tinkling its bell, early on those dewy summer mornings. Read the rest of this entry