Went out. Early. Brought ALL ingredients needed from AMAZING shop Daily bread. www.dailybread.co.uk. Spent far, FAR too long in admiration of all the wonderful products on offer. Which was fun and nice, but not overly productive, and definitely not on my schedule and time allowances. I quickened my pace to Tesco. Boo. I know, but it has to be done. Anyway, spent far too long there. Checking out the nice ingredients I could use, and failing to find any vegetarian fish sauce, I left, after spending obscene amounts of money, and crying/ trying to reassure myself all the way home.
So anyway, that was my morning (afternoon, really) In fact, it was 4 o’clock, and baking was not looking promising. After stuffing food products into various crevices in the fridge, freezer, and any cupboard I could find space in, I proceeded in beginning the “simple” task of making cupcakes. Easy. Using the Nook Café lady’s fail safe recipe anyway. www.fishmarketgallery.co.uk/page/the-nook-cafe. Using some delicious looking vanilla extract with vanilla seeds, I bunged said cupcakes into the oven in haste, and watched. (watching is a must with our 25 year old oven!)- time for a new one mother? yes I think so.
Anyway. These came out a treat, and icing them, using my newly found skills, thanks to cake decorating classes, I was on my way...
(this is Elaine – my pink sparkle horse)
I finished the cupcakes at half past 9 and I was beat. After swinging these round rather hastily to my pal and a quick chat, I was home and working on the brief due in today. This time for www.theothersidemag.co.uk. After a brain dead flurry of activity, listening to Florence - trying to create brain doings, and drawing a train; trying desperately to make it look at least acceptable to the eye, exhaustion hit me, hard. And bed was my game.
Waking this morning, I thought, excellent. I have my ingredients. I’d spend a few hours sorting the image, sending, waiting feedback, rattling out anything else to offer, sending again, and, hopefully, receiving a “yes!!” and the rest of my day could be spent cooking and browsing the internet for some recipe concoctions and maybe a new dress!. I didn’t get to browse the net, apart from buying some rather pleasing real KILNER jars, to hold my jams and chutneys! And I was sent a lovely personal message from Good Food (to which I signed up to the mailing list last week-loser. I know) any way. The subject was: Kayleigh Ann, bake a batch of cookies! I found this rather amusing, so proceeded to open the page. I scrolled down to find.. http://uktv.co.uk/food/recipe/aid/631728/fromNewsletter/670, this. A 17 egg chocolate truffle cake recipe. I nearly wee-ed! This set me up for the day and was determined to create at least one variety of Christmas cake I have on offer.
This, again, surpassed my optimistic attitude, and was confronted by a father wanting my help in the office. A mother needing a trip to the village for her mosquito bitten back itches (to which, when I was to leave on my bike, I got clouted upon by rain – not happy), and finally an email from the other side people, not wanting to rush me, but, I guess a gentle nudge to get a move on and GET OUR PAGE SORTED email. It was a very nice email, and I am in awe of what those boys do down there. So, anyway. 5 hours of stress and panic later. I was done.. Until, under scrutiny, I read it and realised Shepherd’s Bush was spelt incorrectly in my speed to get it done. So, it had to be sent again (this means a lot more then you think – its not a simple case of, “oh, lets log onto the internet and click send. No. No. It involves saving to my memory stick, making sure its there. Properly. Ejecting the memory stick. Walking down the stairs through the kitchen, where my fruit mixture is left soaking, to father’s office, where there lay at least 10 scally’s, watching my every move, complaining when I print in colour and waiting for any slip up. I then have to walk up his stairs, plug in the memory stick I have so gloriously named KAW; KAW has been located and I can finally open the file, ready to be attached and send across the internet web of glory, to London). But then. Then it was sent and I sat back to admire the Sent confirmation. By then it was 6. Mother had arrived home, and now dinner time would postpone my cake making efforts.
It was only after dinner, after everything had been shoved into the dishwasher, sides cleaned, father vacated, could I start on my cakes. It was fun. A long hard slog of pumping every muscle in my right arm to bind the raisin, currant, sultana, cherry and marsala ingredients together. I am now waiting. Waiting for the oven to ding, ping or whatever the hell it does when it declares “I am done”. I am longing for it to make this sound, down to the fact that, as mentioned before, our oven has gone around about 17 years over it’s warranty, and it does cease in breath from time to time… fingers crossed.
The only thing I need answering from my days of hectic activity is this. Why, oh why, does everything take SO darn long? Why? Someone help me decipher the meaning of time, and help me to realise that things take longer then they do or in fact should.
Tomorrow, I am off to work in the Nook Café, which promises to be a day of fun and frolics. So cooking, no baking. Until maybe the evening. When I hang up my tired eyes, on matchsticks (grim thought!) and slog hard into the night. For delicious cakes and things. Just you wait…
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