little cakes

It is such a luxury (not in price, but opportunity) to bake with fresh-laid, local and personalised eggs. Thank you Fluffy, Bobby ..


The average cupcake is a disappointing morsel; with a dry crumb and unappealing blandness they are rarely edible except for the sweet icing (what do i know? .. i can't even eat them, but my nose tells me they are only worth eating when very, very fresh and even then they are just a bland mouthful of flour and air).

My preferred version is one i found from Mary Berry, an old-fashioned cake queen (in the nicest possible sense). I bought one of her cake books for 10p when my little one was first born and we were living out of suitcases for a few months, and had no vast cook book selection to trawl through. It was a bargain, full of classic baking gems from my childhood.

Her recipe for Queen Cakes uses an extra egg, which makes all the difference - richer-tasting, and they last better. Time to bake the day before and ice for a party the next day, still moist and fresh.

100g soft butter (or margarine)
100g caster sugar (use vanilla sugar if you have it - makes a world of difference)
100g self-raising flour
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon of baking powder

Beat all the ingredients together vigorously.

Divide into 12 paper cases (in a bun tin) and bake for 15 minutes at 200ºC until puffed and golden. Lift out and cool on a wire rack.




While i will often use margarine in the cakes, butter icing deserves the real thing:

175g soft butter
350g icing sugar

Blitz in a food processor, adding a few drops of hot water to get an easy piping consistency. Spoon into a plastic food bag and snip a tiny piece out of one corner to squeeze out relaxed ribbons of sweetness.

A touch of Leaf Green colouring and a few drops of peppermint essence,

with milk chocolate buttons for cool contrast.

Marigold colouring and sugared gems for bright sunflower cakes.

*

I dream of barricades, blocking doorways, bricking windows. I am closing inwards.

hands free

I offer my wrists willingly, backwards, loosely crossed over the dimple at the rise of my buttocks. I can feel him twisting the soft black rope thickly around one wrist, then attaching the other so i feel snugly held, comfortably cramped, shoulder blades jutting and compressed. Not tight but secure, not stretched yet without yield.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his lap in front of my wide-open eyes.

I sink.

Without my hands i focus more intensely on the pressure of my lips and how my tongue moves and the variety of ways i can meld my mouth about his shaft.

Occasionally i twist my spine to relieve the tension in my arms and clasped wrists, but i am not fighting the binding, only relishing the awkwardness and the restraint, and the frustration of not being able to grip his flesh in my fingers, or touch myself.

twittrivia

Chaste, not chased.

• is taking her little wall-scribblers to see some real graffiti
• is listening to noises in the dark.
• bacon and broccoli risotto. A perfect lazy choice for an easy summer's day.
• has a new lodger. His name is oscar and he is a bottom feeder. Should fit in well, then ..
• is the best sort of medicine. Take twice a day for health and happiness.
• Has a new shiny toy - Nokia N97. Will check for p0rn.
• is off gallivanting.
• http://twitpic.com/bfkez - renamed: sticky toffee brownies, sliced while warm.
• http://twitpic.com/bfitv - a date & vanilla brownie, with chocolate chunks
• has a magnificent blondie in the oven
• mummy solved a tricky lego problem that daddy failed to fix last night *victory dance*
• is still smiling.
• "let me see" he said, so i show him, trying not to rush, stretching out the moment for as long as possible.
• is erecting fences.
• afternoon tea: fluffnutter sandwiches and hot chocolate, sitting in the garden.
• is making beef and barolo stew for tonight's supper. If it is chilly later i will add dumplings.
• has an excess of bread. The ducks are going to get it today, come rain or shine.
• is limping. Ankle hurts like the wrong sort of buggery.
• Breakfast: toast with smucker's goober peanut butter and grape jelly with a marshmallow fluff topping. Once was enough.
• is perky (and pink).
• city adventure girl has retreated (refreshed yet exhausted) back to countryside and gratefully donned pyjamas, curled up with hot tea.
• Adventuring.
• is fidgety
• have fed the children with large caramel toffees. I now expect at least 15 minutes of cheek-bulging, jaw-gripping silence.
• yes, scarlet gouache *does* stain paintwork.
• somewhere nearby is a vibe with my name on it.
• *wail* my macbook is very sick.
• Is providing emergency cuddles and kiss- it- betters in the park, in between random chapters of fiction. Summer holiday rhythm.
• drinking expresso with a toffee caramel in my mouth.
• has a sore sweet spot.
• am spending the afternoon with some party animals (that is not a euphemism).
• has done the last ever ever, never-again, end-of-an-era, lost-childhood, can't believe-it-is-all-over preschool pick-up. Growing pains
• it has been awhile since i have held myself up against a barre.
• made it home through flood waters, eventually.
• eggs sunny-side up, extra crispy bacon .. smoked salmon on rye for me. Peach and mango smoothies on the side. Done.
• small pyjama clad cuddles, negotiating breakfast favours.
• http://twitpic.com/aji90 - lemon sunflower cupcakes
• Lying on the grass, watching Red Arrows shake their collective butt.
• 2 of the 23 kids at preschool have swine flu. This is not how i intended to start our summer holidays. Feel totally nauseous.
• http://twitpic.com/ah4w0 - today's sticky treat: vanilla cupcake with mint buttercream and chocolate drops
• has just noticed florescent yellow marker pen outlining walls and bookcases. Yesterday he pritt-sticked all the chair seats. slow breathes.
• has a spring in her step
• is going back to bed.
• is peachy
• is riding high on almond essence
• i keep telling myself that it will be alright. Feel free to agree with me.
• sorry Oxfordshire, I put my knickers out to dry on the line so the clouds *had* to rain.
• opening my vanilla sugar pot makes me sigh aloud, happily.
• lady choosing vegetables, please notice that your husband is staring openly and vacantly at my chest.
• the peanut butter jar is empty. This is possibly the last straw of an already stretched-to-limit monday.
• missing kissing
• another, just as i like it.
• Small boy on my lap, eating chips, his hair soft on my cheek.
• in the family bed; boys discussing camp fires and marshmallow-on-sticks, their small feet seeking mine under the duvet.
• "Stay on your tummy" he says. "face down" he repeats for the emphasis
• is lying beside an open window, drinking in cool air. The breeze tickles.

hunger

I could have spent all afternoon with his pale cock in my mouth, feeding myself with his heat and girth. Taking him from soft, spent silkiness back to straining hot rock with copious saliva and busy tongue, then to tussle with a throatful of choking solidity, forcing my face further upon him, allowing myself to gag on the swell, easing off to gulp for air and blink the tears from my eyes, then dipping back to throttle myself again.

I wallow in my role of penial gourmand, relishing the stretching of every facial muscle, the pulled breath from my lungs and the spread of my lips in an oozing, fluttering flesh feast as i balance on bent knees over his reclining body, my hips raised upwards, achingly aware of the window behind me and my vulnerable nakedness.

As the sunlight shifts and deepens across the bed he prompts me to ask, to ask for what i want.

"I will fuck you in your pussy" he says, "or in your..."

He doesn't need to finish the sentence any more than he needs to hear my answer, but, as i crawl up his body, bottom held high, it is dirtier that he says it, and that i ask for it.

"Please"; I whisper the words into his mouth through my scuffed lips.

crackle glaze cookies

These are beautiful cookies; not only in the intense chocolate bite, the soft, chewy texture and the bounty of added dried fruit and yet more chocolate but their tops crackle like interesting pottery, glossy with a fragile carapace that tempts to be broken further.

Thank you to Joy the Baker for the recipe and suggestions. I have rewritten the recipe here with UK imperial measurements as converted from the original US version.

Simplicity itself: melt 8oz good chocolate and 1.5 oz butter, carefully (i use a microwave).



In a big bowl beat together 3 large eggs and 8oz caster sugar, then add the melted and slightly cooled chocolate and butter mix followed by 1 teaspoon expresso coffee powder, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, 4oz plain flour, 1/4 teaspoon baking powder and a pinch of salt.





Stir in some additional goodies, for example: white chocolate chunks (i used about 100g) the same of dark chocolate chunks and a cup of cranberries.





Using 2 rounded teaspoons, drop small balls of the rich truffle dough onto a baking sheet. Allow room to spread. Bake at 170ºC for 10-11 minutes. I used a timer, and was careful not to over bake - as soon as the tops crackle then they are ready. Allow to cool slightly and transfer to a cooling rack. Enjoy.
.

tip toe

My husband is in my kitchen, cooking lunch for our children. It is a saturday ritual which means i can suffer the double gym class that rids me of the bile of our mangled weekends. I try to stay away for the full 4 hours but today he is leaving early so i am sitting with the children and a game of monkey puzzle when i hear his mobile phone ring.

He answers the phone with a tone and inflection that he used to speak to me with, and a sparsity of words that shouts intimacy.

I am not particularly surprised, or perturbed. I just feel foolish that he has talked like that to women for most of our marriage and i never noticed.

the smell of diesel

For those of you who don't know, The Red Arrows, officially known as the Royal Air Force Aerobatic Team, is the aerobatics display team of the Royal Air Force. They are very fast, very noisy, and excellent fun to watch. You are never quite sure from which direction they will come, or at which height they will arrive.

cooling

Half a ripe cantaloupe melon, cubed, half a cup of iced water, a large pinch of ground coriander:

blend, drink.

At a certain angle, with only a little extra pressure from the blunt-ended toy, i feel a soft release inside me; no particular spasm or body-wrenching shudder but a warm expulsion that radiates not only saturation into my palm and down my thigh but a relaxation that spreads upwards and sideways, deadening my limbs and allowing my eyelids to close, my head to loll, my mind to wander beyond this small, white-bright bedroom and the limits of time.

fixing

Browsing in my local bookshop in the few minutes before it shut tonight i found a Tamasin Day-Lewis cook book that i didn't already have on my bookshelf. Her cooking style suits me; sophisticated enough to be a challenge but never fiddly, it is the sort of food i would like to put on my table every day.

I particularly like Tamasin's use of more unorthodox vegetables. I am not silly enough to try the curried cream of artichoke soup (well, maybe), but the spicy celeriac and coconut milk soup is high on my list to try, along with celeriac, thyme and potato gratin, once the winter vegetables start appearing in my veg box.

My reminder list, for slightly cooler evenings:

• Sweet-sour roasted parsnips with sweet potatoes.
• Veal ragu
• Parsley and horseradish dumplings
• Beef Daube, flavoured with Rum

For some time, very soon:

• Summer Lemon and Raspberry cake
• Blondie (date brownies)
• A gluten-free almond and blood orange cake
• Lemon Devil's Food cake.

First of all i am set to try an alternative to my poached ham; a Baked Gammon with Parsley Sauce, for the boys' supper tomorrow.

I also browsed some unknown cook names, and spotted an idea i have to try: Rocky Road made with turkish delight and pistachios.





500g minced pork, a little finely chopped bacon, a crushed garlic clove, grated zest of a lemon and a handful of torn basil leaves; blend with your fingers and roll into walnut-sized balls. Flatten slightly as you cook them briskly in a pan with a little heated oil. Make sure they colour well to a crisp and caramelised finish - cook for 2 or 3 minutes on each side and check one to see they are juicy but not pink.



I miss kissing.

The lack of lip contact should have been the major signal in my disintegrating marriage; we had startling sex, but the spontaneous kissing was infrequent towards the end. Somehow it became less intimate to have my face in his lap than to be nose to nose with him.

Some things can become a purely physical action, especially if you are intent on providing reassurance (for self, or not), and the sentiment is easier to disguise if you can ignore the lack of electical surge, by avoiding the kiss that doesn't work any longer.

I can share so much with another, but without the undisguised reactions that might occur in my body as we kiss there is still so much i don't know.

twittrivia

I bury myself in baking, once again. Armed with a wooden spoon and a deep bowl i am invincible.

• tired mummy, tired children. Who will cry first?
• "kiss me here" demands my small child, offering his left buttock. If only grown-up bruises were so easily soothed.
• is it indecent to have a tuna melt at 11.09am? I haz earned it.
• : thighs all a-quiver.
• come spoon, soon.
• is licking implements having completed sea-green cake, completed with perky waves (am reminded of an old-fashioned bathing cap with ruches).
• opps. does it matter that i have made chocolate butter icing for a lemon cake?
• is cocooned by the aroma of lemon maderia cake steadily blossooming in the oven. A culinary cuddle, with cashmere cushions and candles.
• had a 8 hrs-without-moving, woke-with-imprint-of-sex-toy-on-thigh sleep.
• can't sleep, can't fiddle, can't bake.
• u know what? i have strange feeling that i am being taken for a fool
• i used canned frosting for the first time ever today - i might feel like a cake whore, but i like it.
• there are tiny cakes *everywhere* - i can barely move about my own kitchen
• is having so much fun despite numb finger. Will tell you all about it later ...
• has burnt her scrolling finger
• i need a fast laying hen.
• 6:30 am, and yes, i really am making another batch of cupcakes. Today is all about time management.
• is feeling resourceful. Had to make up self-raising flour. 2nd batch of cupcakes are rising well.
• how do you tell your 2 best girlfriends that their (younger) girls are bullying your (older) son in the playground?
• sometimes i think i need to know, other times i am content to wait.
• garlicky lamb with caraway seed; i forget how good that aroma is.
• lingered too long outside in the sudden rainstorm but shall enjoy being cold and damp for awhile.
• writing smut while defrosting the freezer
• Finally, the county cricket ground shimmers with sunshine off white polyester.
• Big black cloud, please pass on by.
• Gosh, but i think my phone is broken again. And i don't seem to have drunk enough water with my wine.
• cookie dough To. Die. For. Thick, glossy & fragrant, like the best truffle, barely firm. Finished cookie is crackled-glazed, like porcelain
• Oh FU@@@@@K. Am now hot and bothered as i burnt 200g of good dark chocolate. Smells nasty. #cookfail
• licks fingers surreptitiously as i choose fat doughnuts, sugar-coated cushions with a weeping eye of dark jam, for children's treat
• has declared today a knicker-free day, having put her thumb through the current lacy pair.
• was woken by an friend bearing wit and innuendo. The birds sing a little harder. happy Birthday x
• has sucked hard on endorphins and such and is still afloat, if not adrift.
• thank you. It is shitness, but i hate weekends. This is against nature.
• is sitting in a light breeze, listening to water. The weekend looms darkly. I have to change this state of mind, somehow.
• is sated and a little sleepy.
• naked smoothie
• http://twitpic.com/91rzz - marshmallow pop cake, to eat beside the pool
• water fight! ... but not in my own garden so i have to walk home through village in dripping wet clothes.
• is shopping for meat.
• solution to afternoon garden/paddling pool dress code: skinny t-shirt and knickers
• would give quite a lot for some hair smoothing cream right now.
• dilemma: small feverish child needs quiet time on sofa, another child needs loud support at sports day. What to do?
• is sleep deprivation a valid excuse for sheer stupidity?

i defrosted my freezer

The original dish was a leg of lamb, studded with anchovies, rosemary and garlic, which i happened to cook on the hottest day of spring - far too hot for the 3 of us to make much of a dent in the juicy pink meat, so i sliced it off the bone and froze it for another day.

My Shepherd's Pie: finely chopped leftover roast lamb, with diced carrots and onion, a small spring cabbage, sliced, a bulb of fresh garlic, some fresh chicken stock and an indecent amount of brown sauce (to your taste). I added a couple of teaspoons of caraway seeds too, and left to bubble gently for 45 minutes. Peas would have been good, too.



A blanket of mashed potato, creamy with butter and a little milk, with grated cheddar on the top, under a hot grill for 10 minutes.

razzle dazzle

I have been a baking dervish this last week, to the extent that the village hens fear my visits as i exhort them to greater effort. I shall be filling these pages with recipes, for there is little else i want to write.

If i knew where i was i would tell you.

Gigi looks at me, reproachfully.

I woke up in the early hours of the morning to the clunking rattle of my glass dildo rolling from under my pillow and on the floor. I had forgotten it was there.

Things change, and i will eventually catch up.

I wonder how much i shall miss the era of preschool. I don't suppose i will regret the passing of the diabolical call "wipe my botty, mummy", usually heard at high pitch, at meal times.

Nigella Lawson's Marshmallow Crispy Squares (i call it Candy Floss Cake).

I have eaten these made with additional caramel sweets, melted into a toffee mess, but these are lighter, if no less sweet, and perhaps kinder on the teeth (but only slightly).





Melt 45g of butter in a heavy saucepan over a low heat. Add 300g of marshmallows and allow to dissolve completely while stirring gently.

Take off the heat and add 180g puffed rice (gluten-free by preference). The mix will be very sticky and stringy, like hot candy-floss.



Spoon into a lightly greased tin (i used a 22cm round cake pan). A silicone baking sheet (or greased grease-proof paper) placed over the top to press your hand against is the simplest way of flattening the sticky rice, either wise your hand and/or implement will be glued to the top of the cake.





When throughly flattened, add sprinkles or a little edible glitter. Allow to cool in the fridge and cut into shapes - either long, elegant triangles for indulgent solo eating, or small bite-sized chunks for party grazing.

This cake is particularly enjoyed by men, i find, despite the fairy pinkness.

nothing

but white noise.

ice baby

This is the kind of day when i wish i were naked in an air conditioned hotel room, with blinds closed and the air chilled, when the sweat barely rises despite huge effort and i welcome the press of his heated skin against mine, and later we will curl up together beneath the security of a bed cover, snoozing contentedly in each other's warmth.

Today, however, we are in his bedroom with the windows closed to quench my animal noise from echoing around the neighbourhood, and the curtains do nothing to filter the heat of the afternoon sun. There is a large fan, propped at a convenient height, spinning the turgid air over the length of the bed which offers some relief. I lie spreadeagled, letting the trickle of moving air stroke my belly and the open angle of my body. The sensation of wet, hot flesh blatantly exposed to movement is beautifully erotic. If i shut my eyes i can imagine we are lying in a field on a hillside, a landscape stretched below me, green vistas in which my open body is stridently displayed.

When i suck his cock i crouch between his thighs, on my knees, head dipping, ostensibly to focus better on the particular rhythm that he enjoys around his gnarling piece, but it is also a move to distance myself from his hand which will hold my neck if i were closer, although the additional skin contact feels suffocating. It is here in this particular position that i discover that i have the same welcome draught on the back of my legs. I sign contentedly at the heat difference of the heat of his cock filling my throat and the fanning relief on my tilted pussy.

When i am suitably refreshed, and he has enjoyed the view long enough, he will steal my breeze to use my lifted bottom; the cycle of streaming, sweaty fucking begins again.

We pause again, the only point of contact being my lips around his cock as he tips his pelvis towards my face, careful not touch my fevered skin. I want to be filled, but the heat (our heat) is debilitating.

In my bag is a glass toy, a thick dimpled shaft of crystal clear coolness. Even unprepared - i could have left her in a basin of cold water beforehand - she feels icy in my fist. He watches as i lower myself, achingly slowly, upon the startling big globe of the widest end, my face reflecting the pleasure of the pervading chill.

make-and-do friday

Sometimes, the desire to cook with a single particular ingredient becomes overriding, and then google is my special friend. It is how i found this delightful recipe, to satisfy caramel cravings .. Buttery Golden Syrup Cake by The Caked Crusader.

The dark molasses sugar (barbados) is the key to the exceedingly moist and dense crumb, and the intense fudge flavour. I can't do justice to the perfection of the heady, sweet aroma of hot syrup that pervades the kitchen, and the plate.

In a mixer, blend a packet of soft unsalted butter (250g), and 220g of dark muscovado sugar until smooth and creamy. I find that muscovado sugar can be awkward to blend thoroughly, but break up the sugar before adding to the bowl, and any persistent lumps are easily crushed with a wooden spoon. The occasional unblended lump will merely sink to the bottom of the cake for an extra fudgy hit.



Add 2 eggs and a tablespoon of Tate & Lyle golden syrup, beat well. Gently add 225g of self-raising flour, pulsing until blended, and finally pour in 125ml milk and beat until just amalgamated.



Spoon the toffee batter into a 18" cake tin and bake for 50 minutes at 180°C/fan oven 160°C/350°F/Gas mark 4. Leave for 10 minutes and then remove to a wire tray to cool completely.



Next time i would add some lemon rind, and serve with clotted cream (and i will need guest testers).

twitrivia

A week of cake, feverish children and occasional masturbation.

• not enough sleep.
• it is almost to hot to cook (but i don't care, cos i have my pool to escape to soon).
• i need a waterproof toy - and i don't mean a rubber ducky.
• why am i anxious about neighbours seeing me in bra and knickers in my garden when anyone can find me deshabille on the 'net?
• is mellow
• naked scrambled eggs
• almost *all* of my cookies have been know to induce state of euphoria @MsPonita My muffins, however, have a (saliva) squirt guarantee.
• needs to go and take her clothes off for a little while.
• "smile if you hurt" he said hopefully.
• on hot summer nights i sleep naked and uncovered, and suffer haunting, vulnerable dreams.
• sweet yet salty pasta puttanesca, to suit the mood of the day.
• is broiling pleasantly.
• if i had known *then* what i know *now* about the splatter potential of vomit from a height, i would never seriously considered bunk beds.
• is working at home (nekkid, with loud music and other creative stimulants). I like my job.
• d.i.v.o.r.c.e. is the best motivation for combat technique. My upper cut and cross punch are improving significantly
• wanna be my sweetheart, sweetheart ♪ mid-step between speed ball and scissor jumps i notice my nipples are shards of rock, tingling
• thereisafuckingbigspideronmylaundrypile
• speed reading tweet: "..learn how to speed up your masturbation.." Ask myself Why?? before eventually realising it says 'metabolism
• "mum" he says sharply, "why haven't you put butter on my noodles?"
• my left ear lobe is throbbing in sympathy with my clitoris
• is recharging
• is cake and dildo testing
• is cake testing
• cake is out of oven; treacle brown sponge with a deep cleft in the top and a strong, sweet syrup aroma. All crisis and gloom dispelled.
• toffee-coloured batter of Golden Syrup Cake in the oven NOW.
• change what you can, accept what you can't
• Lemon & Golden Syrup Cake bookmarked.
• where are all the UK-based sex blog twitters, anyway? There is always a martini & cupcake party happening in the USA but here.. zilch
• has finally lived her milk maid fantasy.
• has landed in beatrix potter land: snowy down, yellow beaks and a brand new fluffy gosling.
• ♫ i'm going to visit a pig farm, i'm .. yes, i really am, and no, i am not as thrilled as i was yesterday + it looks as if it might rain.
• my phone is faulty *taps inbox*
• is on a coach will no chocolate. #shopfail
• This place smells the same as it did 8 years ago. The decor changes but never alters the smells from the canteen or the anxious aroma in ...
• Came to london. Played scalextric. Not quite what i have come to expect from this city.
• Boy fueling up on pret cake after journey. He held my hand in a fierce grip as we walked the city pavement. I want to sit and watch.
• ♫ going to london, i'm going to london, going to london, i'm going to london, going to london, ♪ i'm going to london, going to london ♪