Wednesday, April 2, 2014

same appetites

Still baking, still fucking, but undecided about blogging. For now, the pictures and stories remain but life is so very different from when i started out, seven (seven? really?) years ago that I truly feel an out-of-body experience when looking at these pages. Not that the love of food has changed so much, I still make all those favourite recipes. And the love of a man .. no, that hasn't changed either. So perhaps the appetite remains the same, but the view from the table alters.

A tray of chocolate macaroons, still warm. I eat one with a spoonful of lemon curd, dense chocolate on my tongue with cool, sour lemon alongside.

 






Tuesday, October 1, 2013

autumnal bounty

Almost seven years of his cock and still he surprises me, leaves me gasping, slippery with every fluid and my skin flushed top to bottom in the boldest sunset shades.

Finally finally my latest cut has healed. I didn't realise, until the scab finally smoothed over, that the strain of repair has been dragging me down so far. But I seem to pop back again, bobbing like a cork.



German Apple Cake, my way.

There are so many recipes out there, you need never repeat them. I have, however, happily repeated this one.

250g butter
180g caster sugar
300g self-raising gf flour
1 teaspoon xanthum gum
2 eggs

6 cooking apples, peeled and thinly sliced
4 tablespoons sultanas
2 tablespoons demerara sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
half teaspoon nutmeg
juice of 2 lemons
  • Melt the butter in a large saucepan, add the sugar and stir until he sugar starts to dissolve. Add the flour, xanthum gum and stir well, beat in the 2 eggs. 
  • Spread half the batter over the base of a greased tin (22-24cm).
  • Layer half of the apple slices over the batter.
  • Mix together the sultanas, sugar and spices and sprinkle over the apple. 
  • Cover with the rest of the apples, sprinkle with the lemon juice. 
  • Spread the remaining batter on top, in spoonfuls.
  • Bake at 180C for 45 minutes, or until cake is cleanly baked. 

I serve this with whipped cream. Whip it, baby. 

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Three ways

His fingers are so unerringly direct, without falter and with no quarter given. I am fixated. 




St. Clements Yoghurt Cake
Adapted from a Mary Berry recipe to make it suitable for me .. gluten and diary free .. and because I like that pumped-up threesome flavour I made it orange, lime and lemon too. 

Ingredients
300g caster sugar
50g unsalted butter, softened
3 large eggs, separated

225g thick sheeps' yoghurt
Zest of 1 lemon (and a lime)

175g self-raising flour
1 teaspoon xanthan gum

250g fondant sugar
4tbsp orange juice (or use hot water with a splash of orange extract)

Grease and line with parchment paper a round, deep 8 inch cake tin. Preheat oven to 180 degrees C.

Cream together the softened butter, sugar and egg yolks until the texture is pale and fluffy - an electric beater will do this in minutes. 

Pour in the yoghurt and add the lemon (and lime, if using) zest. Beat until the mixture is well incorporated and smooth.

Sieve the flour into the mixture and, using a large metal spoon, gently fold it in until there are no traces of flour to  be seen.

Next, in a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until soft peaks form. Fold a large spoonful of the whites gently into the cake batter to loosen the mix, then add the remainder and keep folding gently until there are no traces of whites in it.

Pour the mixture into the prepared cake tin and bake for an hour. At the end of the hour, test the cake by inserting a skewer into the centre of the cake and check that it comes out clean .. give the cake a few more minutes if necessary. 

Leave it to cool for a few minutes before removing from the tin. When completely cold, make up the fondant icing (simple instructions on the packet) or use icing sugar and water for a thin glaze. I like to make an orange icing for the sweet St Clements twist, but a lemon icing will be just as delicious.

Even better the next day, but don't take my word for it .. try it yourself.






Wednesday, May 22, 2013

puddles


A circle of good and bitter chocolate, adorned with (as I remember it) toasted almond slices, chopped pistachio, freeze dried raspberry and mango, a little sea salt for sparkle.

Leave to cool and set on parchment paper before carefully peeling away a perfect mouthful of sweet and salt, crunch and mouth.

It only takes minutes.

*

A whorl of his body hair keeps my attention, darker against the intimate white of his thigh, tightly curled beneath an stray spit of cum. I lay my cheek in his lap to surround myself in our mingled sex smell, an aroma so familiar yet every time a thrill at the recognition of myself soaked into his skin.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

tricky procedure

It is so very hard to navigate around a bone shaking orgasm when i am studded all over with sutures that shouldn't be shaken. But I shall achieve it. Maybe not tonight. Maybe tonight is another of those very quiet ones, when i let only my knees quiver.

No heavy weight lifting, I am told. What do I do about the weight of my own breasts hanging off my cut-about shoulders? Lie down. So I do.


Thursday, April 4, 2013

Nip and pinch

My garden of blossoming roses, viewed daily in the mirror, creep across my belly and speckle my breasts with their faded yellow splendour. I am surprised by yet another faintly flowering low down on my hip, only visible when I twist in the brighter light by the window. Later they will develop shadows of earthy green, intensified by the marbling of his teeth in the places he lovingly lingered.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Glory be

I am too tired to fuck so he jokes that he will take my arse while I sleep. With that fat cock in me there is little chance that my eyes would be shut for long. I remember those mornings when he woke at bird's song and he would cradle my back and push slowly between my relaxed thighs, nudging me to a dreamy awareness through the sleepy heat of a well spent night, a gentle friction of our limbs beneath the comfort of the duvet, rocking hips and the pressure of his uplifted knee. I shift a leg straight to feel him deeper and he is further awake and rising, escalating and determined.