Really, about the only good thing that comes with this time of year is apples. I really like apples, though I am quite particular about the types that I’ll eat (it’s a short list: Granny Smith, Pink Lady, Jazz).
But yup, apples are the only good thing. That’s about it. There’s nothing else.
It was Alastair’s birthday in late March, and as per tradition for the past seven years, there was birthday lasagne to celebrate.
A LOT of birthday lasagne. Like… four litres of bolognaise sauce a lot. (Go big, right?!)
Of course, it wasn’t just us eating birthday lasagne. I invited a few people over and naturally there had to be birthday cake. Not for Alastair, because he doesn’t like cake that much, but for everyone else since it’s “not a birthday without birthday cake”.
It feels like it’s been hot forever. Autumn, what Autumn?
I know that some (most) people are over it, but I can’t tell you how happy I am with never-ending summer. The sunshine! The warmth! It’s like being wrapped up in a constant hug (or a thousand and two woollen jumpers). Happy happy happy!
After making these alfajores on two different occasions, I declare them a winter baking project.
Both occasions were during extremely hot nights and it was an exercise in frustration. The dough for these biscuits is super soft, and there was heavy resistance to being rolled out or shaped because it wanted to be melty mcmelt all over the bench.
Okay, so it’s actually Valentine’s Day, but c’moooooon. Roast Pork Belly Day is about as arbitrary, right?
Besides, Valentine’s Day is completely wasted on me. I’m not into getting flowers (they die… and I can buy my own), or chocolates (I only really like plain dark chocolate… and I can buy my own), or jewellery (I don’t like gold or diamonds… and I can buy my own).
You can deduce a couple of things from that.
1: I don’t like receiving gifts. (Though I appreciate the thought and all.)
2: I’m terribly unromantic.
Note: this is a scheduled post while I’m away. Replies to comments/emails will be even slower than usual.
This is my life nowadays. I get up early to bake cookies. Ten years ago, I would’ve been awake at the same time because I hadn’t gone to sleep yet after a night out.
Ahh, youth. As they say, it’s wasted on the young.
I’m not sure which part of my life I will remember more fondly, but in this part I have cookies and ice cream sandwiches and a tiny bit more wisdom. The invincible feeling of youth or cookies… tough choice!
Note: This is a scheduled post while I’m away, so replies to comments and emails will be slow. Enjoy!
I have a terrible habit of buying ingredients just because I’ve never seen them for sale before. I have no idea what to do with them and no plans for using them. My mind just goes “Oooooh,” and before I know it, I’m leaving the shop with it.
That’s how I ended up with a bag of kataifi pastry that sat around in the fridge for a month. Every time I saw it, I thought to myself, “Must cook that up.” But of course, once I closed the fridge, all thoughts of it disappeared.