Gingerbread architecture

Image from cutmesomeflack.wordpress.com
Yes, I have been very quiet - also very busy. A stream of visitors forced the ringbearer to ban any cakey inventions. Apparently not everyone likes finding gummys in their chocolate brownies. However, I have been experimenting with my lebkuchen recipe and now I have a star stamp, I shall be manufacturing zimtsterne like I was the big bang.

However, I have another grand plan. No, not marshamllows in mince pies[1] but a gingerbread construct. Gingerbread houses are dull, so what to try instead? A castle? A post apocalyptic nightmare? Confuse the Christmas message with a Gingerbread mosque? A tank? A ship? Or should I keep it simple and depict some sort of naughtiness in the house? Ideas in the comments! Come on, the odder the better.

[1] Not a bad idea actually.....

Penguin pool!

(Photo taken from Spiegel online)

Just how cool is this? You can swim in the pool next to a pool of penguins! I'm getting on a plane right now.

Penguin political correctness goes AWOL

(Picture from Spiegel online)

From the Spiegel weekly news quiz:

Yes Sandy the penguin became smitten with her keeper Peter Vollbracht. But the fickle creature lost interest when Vollbracht was off sick and hunted out another lover. Once Tom, a real penguin, died the slippery little trollop made a beeline again for the keeper.

Slippery little trollop! Some lonely, recently widowed penguin who after a long period of loving monogamy has returned her affections to the man she used to do charity work with is a 'slippery little trollop' for flirting with something she can never mate with? Would Der Spiegel have used such language for a male penguin? I think not. Maybe she should have thrown herself onto her penguin husband's burial pyre or lived as an outcast like Nepali widows?

Most likely this is one of Der Spiegel's very rare, yet quite funny little cultural mistranslations. Still, I'm appalled.

The mosquito must go!

Technically, as a nearly 30 year old I shouldn't have been able to hear the 17.7 Hz noise outside a corner shop in Timperley, but I could. It was like a knife through my brain, I actually felt nauseous and my hearing an head felt odd for at least an hour afterwards. I had heard of the Mosquito device, but had never come across one until yesterday. Designed to continuously emit a noise at a level only the under 25s can hear, it supposedly causes enough discomfort and annoyance that they will go elsewhere. The Mosquito is considered one of the most effective methods of preventing teenagers from gathering in a certain place.

This device is a form of ageist assault. I appreciate the horrors and intimidation of ASBO worthy youth in pack form and the right of ordinary shop owners and citizens to carry on with their normal lives. But this device doesn't segregate according to behaviour it segregates according to age. It says in one loud, painful tone that *everyone* under the age of 25 is a thug. Treat them like that and that is exactly what the vast majority of law abiding decent children will become. The device doesn't even make that much sense as a teenager deterrent - sure, they'll move on... to where? Another place that needs a mosquito and then another, soon teenagers and children won't be able to shamble or skip along a single street without being in discomfort.

The Mosquito and it's use is unregulated. It can be used whenever the owner likes and as it doesn't bother *them* it can be left on permanently. The one in Timperley was on at 10am on a weekday - surely not a prime time for teenage intimidation. The Mosquito can be boosted to levels unacceptable under health and safety laws and most adults are none the wiser. There is NO evidence of the effect of exposure on children's ears, all tests relating to adults only, which seems like an insane omission. However, this oversight is deemed to be acceptable as teenagers can surely walk away from the horrible noise. But small children with their parents can't 'walk away' and young people must still walk on pavements and cycle on roads near Mosquitos on a regular basis. These Mosquitos aren't limited to the privately owned shop forecourt, they can stretch up to 25m into public areas and yet no warning signs are required; so adults can wheel their baby/toddler right beneath it and stand and chat for 30 minutes in complete ignorance of the discomfort of their child. How are young people with learning disabilities supposed to cope with this unexpected onslaught?

The Mosquito device, it's installation and usage should be regulated. If there was a device that caused discomfort to everyone over the age of 50, it would be instantly banned. If someone played music at a deeply disturbing volume outside your local post office, so that anyone passing was caused discomfort, the police would be around. The only reason the mosquito is legal and unregulated is because the majority of its victims can't vote.

If you want to find out if you can hear the device, go here. You need good speakers for it to work properly, although the ringbearer says it might damage them.

Not-so-Fantastic Mr Fox

Fantastic Mr Fox was the first book I read on my own and is very special to me. It was therefore with no small amount of trepidation that I approached Wes Anderson's version of Roald Dahl's classic book. However, I quite like Wes Anderson's movies, their gentle touch, sumptuous visuals and unabashedly slow and odd dialogue. So how bad could it be?

Well, pretty bad. Fantastic Mr Fox looks beautiful. It's just a shame that Anderson has shoved American and British culture together with little thought to his source material- one of the most British stories possible. The bad guys have British accents (awesomely played though) whilst the animals are voiced by Americans and include several animals native to America. The music is nearly all American. Anderson even takes the fantastic distinctive British stylings of Mr Jarvis Cocker and gets him to sing an American country fireside song. The British pub, town and train seemed incongruous on what appeared to be a very American countryside, whilst the dialogue was full of American terms and ideas. Did Mr Anderson think we wouldn't notice? Or was his only thought that the cultures would blend seamlessly as far as less internationally culturally aware US audiences were concerned? Why did he even bother with the small whiffs of Britain?

This is not a children's film. Sure, it lacks violence, swearing and sex , but it's dialogue - laden with adult psychology and Latin jokes is too cumbersome for children. Somehow the tale of an arrogant, cunning fox became another of Anderson's stories about a loving dysfunctional yet indie-cool American family. Not exactly something to keep the kids' attention. In extending the book to film length Anderson has naturally made some embellishments. Plot-wise these are still in keeping with Dahl's premise, but his world-building is somewhat strange. His animals inhabit a human-like world of clothes, professions and chemistry lessons, but yet the rules of this world are never fully explained or adhered to. Most annoying for me was the inclusion of Kylie, an opossum (not native to the UK) who fulfilled the standard Anderson role of platonic, odd pseudo family member. Why did soft spoken Kylie join in the raids and not -as-in-the-book- Mr Badger - an equally well developed character? In short Dahl's story lost out to Anderson's sense of style and snail pace.

Fantastic Mr Fox is a lovely Wes Anderson film about indie-American family values, portrayed in a beautiful environment, rich with style and pathos. A Roald Dahl film for kids it is not.

Bananering the pineapple cake

The ringbearer loves foam bananas. Don't know why-horrible fake tasting things that they are - but he does. As we disagree on this point I decided not to put too much effort into the mighty foam-banana-cake experiment I agreed to and utilised one of the easiest (and stickiest) recipes I know. So here it is: The pineapple upside down foam banana cake.

Step 1. Batter making. This is dead easy, no folding, bain-maries or even a mixer. Just add eggs, sugar, flour and pineapple juice in a bowl and stir.
Step 2. Melt butter in chosen dish on the hob, then add sugar. Squish the sugar into the butter (This is great fun and looks horrible)
Step 3. Place the pineapple in the dish. Also add pointless banana items in a specifically zoned area.
Step 4. Pour over the batter. Put in oven and bake.
Step 5. The only tricky bit. Cool the cake a little bit and attempt to flop cake out of dish onto plate. If this isn't done when there is residual oven warmth then the cake will NEVER come out. Seriously you could use the stuff to seal a reactant leak at Sellafield. At this point I spot a problem. Look at the picture below, have you spotted it?
Yes. The cake would flop over the edges of the plate. Now normally this would come with the considerable benefits that I could legitimately eat the fallen off parts. But I wasn't in the mood - there might be foam banana in parts of it! After much clanking and near misses I discovered a rectangular platter in the cupboard, that still didn't quite fit and had curved edge issues, but would mean less spillage. And tadaa!

The cake is naturally best served warm with cream. The ringbearer was delighted and to prove it gave me some very eloquent reviews. (I think he's been taking my remarks about his monosyllabic reviews to heart). He declared it to be 'A pineapple cake as interpreted in Las Vegas.' If this is a good thing I don't know. He also said 'It had a heightened sense of banana which formed a hyper real mix with the pineapple.'. I will grudgingly admit that it wasn't that bad and was very probably better than the softmint yoghurt cake. But lascked the diverting scientific questions about softmint integrity. Foam banana integrity was incidentally very good-which isn't suprising they taste of hardened wood anyway.

Refreshing the almond wine biscuits

Enough with this cake business, I have decided to embark on some biscuit alteration. My best biscuits are probably the 'wine biscuits' from Dr Oetker, so I thought I should try something with those. But what? Pondering the sweetie shelves, I came across my beloved sherbet fountains (in new packaging-of which more later). What accompanies sherbet, in tingliness? Why Barrats refreshers of course!
Stage 1 Make the dough. This is very easy indeed, especially with the mighty magimix. The breadcrumb like stage is meant to be combined with wine, instead of a tablespoon of water. As much as the ringbearer and I enjoy necking a bottle of left over wine, it always seems atrocious to open a bottle just for a few ml, which you can't taste anyway. I therefore switched to German grappa, which not only tastes stronger but we have a bottle of and rarely drink. Once the dough was made it was rolled out and cut into circles.

Stage 2 Refresher tests. Would refreshers survive the cooking temperature? Sure, they only needed to last about 15 minutes, but would they degrade? I therefore popped 1 in with the jacket potatoes. 30 minutes later the flat stunk of burned sugar as the blackened remains of the refreshers was removed from the oven. Not a good sign, but the jackets were in at a higher temperature, the refreshers were cooked for longer on the wrong substrate/matrix than they would on the biscuits, plus I have never let one very clear indicator of possible failure stop me before....
Stage 3 Topping. The rounds were then covered in beaten egg white, sprinkled with sugar or sherbet and then decorated with chopped almonds and/or halves of refreshers. I also cunningly hid the refreshers under the egg white, as a sort of initial blast cover. the biscuits were then baked in batches. At this point we must digress to the new sherbet fountain packaging.Plastic? Aren't we meant to be caring for the environment? Sure the paper sometimes got a bit soggy, but that was part ofthe art of consumption. The only reason I can think that Tangerine confectionery chose this atrocious environmentally disastrous, untraditional, quick and easy packaging for the lazy and slobby is that it allows you to replace the top and save your sherbet. Save your sherbet? When did obesity fears outweigh the importance of elegant eating and the environment? And who leaves a half eaten piece of liquorice for later? YUK!
Results. Score one for optimistic disdain of rough-shod scientific tests! The Refreshers survived unburnt, especially those hidden by egg white. Personally I could only just about taste the sherbet, which manifested as a slight extra-tang. However the refreshers were very potent and tasty. Certainly these biccies are unsophisticated and quite frankly taste a little loopy, but I liked them. The ringbearer, once he had gotten over his disappointment that a vast cake wasn't appearing from the oven (also his delight that the flat didn't fill with stinking burning refresher again) deigned to taste the biccies. He claimed they were like 'An outbreak of sunshine on a biscuit base', but mumbled a bit about whether he thought they were better than the sugar and almond original.

Spiders vs Conkers. FIGHT!

Are spiders conkerphobic? The Royal Society of Chemistry wants to know. (Chemists of course ask all the important questions). I'm a bit torn on whether I want it to be true. If it is, then conkers will become righteously popular again -which will mean less for me, but also better horsechestnut tree care.

I love the headline 'Spiders vs conkers', it just evokes such glorious images. Possibly a Pixar style silent comedy as the spider attacks the tricky to control sphere, or a more malicious horde of spiders facing an avalanche of conkers (One spider would naturally be pacing at the front trying to rally the troops). Would one spider be capable of creating a web that would hold a conker, let alone stop one rolling or falling down? I'm off to find a spider web to do some experiments.

Oktoberfest statistics

The Oktoberfest statistics are in! Just the 759 "beer corpses" and three drink related deaths over a 2 week period. Best of course is the 700 id cards and passports, fishing rod, toaster, 3 crutches, miniature pinscher, 18 children and a milk tooth that were lost (the children alone were reclaimed and I reckon the tooth fairy can get into the Munich lost-and-found). And I assume we are all very relieved that the traditional set of dentures has been reported missing. Why don't we get stats releases after big events in the UK? I personally demand to know how many tonnes of fish and chips were sold in blackpool on a given bank holiday weekend. I also want to know the number of Carling carcusses found after any given music festival.

Conker threats

Well this is a disaster, the Horse Chestnut Leaf Miner are here in the UK! They are making the beautiful Horse Chestnut trees look nasty. What person want to hunt for luscious smooth conkers under something as pitted and pocked as the leaves above? Sure the moths might not have lasting effects, but these are trees, not people. In 30 years time we could be talking about his moth like we talk about smoking - If we knew then, what we know now etc etc.

Why have there been no public service announcements? Our conkers are at risk! Sure the Forrestry Commission is keeping an eye on them, but is it enough? Maybe Mi5 should be brought in for better surveillance and spread calculation. Our finest scientific minds should be workling on this. We should have daily adverts telling us to collect up conker leaves and burn them! Children should be taking part in leaf-collecting-drives in school! Old ladies should be collecting leaves on the bottom of their zimmer frames! Communities should come together to burn the leaves - and not just on bonfire night, every night! There should be an emergency helpline for notifications about infercted trees!

Save our Conkers!

It is clear to me that I must do further research on the risks to conker trees, so that I can run my own public information campaign. There is something out there called Bleeding Canker of Horse Chestnut, which is already giving me nightmares.

Cheese map

A map of cheese. Truly a glorious thing. I reckon I could draw a line through the mini cheeses and plan a road trip.

Moths declare war on conkers

A certain kind of moth is attacking conker trees in Germany, needless to say I am very concerned that these little b*stards might make it over the channel. I shall be writing a strongly worded letter to the border agency on the subject of searching people for chestnut leaves and conkers. I myself am distraught that I might have brought some to the UK when I moved back here.

On a side note, is drinking under a conker tree a good idea, or are the Germans normally inside before the splendiferous seeds start dropping?

A moral conker dilemma

I have been struggling with a quandry and it is beginning to interfere with my enjoyment of conker season.

Is it morally wrong to collect conkers within a park which includes a children's playground? And how far geographically do you need to be from a school, when collecting the lovely smooth, mahogany covered jewels so as not to deny a child of it's outdoorsy fun and therefore personal development? Should one collect conkers where thou willst and teach the kiddies the importance of eagle eyed observation and getting-there-first?

Madame de Pompadour - Nancy Mitford spreads the aristocratic love

Madame de Pompadour is one of the most fascinating women in French history. A King's mistress with massive influence, which she maintained even after the physical element of her duties subsided. A woman of charm, beauty, artistic appreciation, imagination and intellect. A jumped up commoner, she was (like marmite) both hated and loved. An excellent introduction can be found here. I find I can despise Madame de Pompadour for spending the starving peasants' money on nothing, making important political decisions based on how charming a noble was but also appreciate the incredible longevity and influence in the snakepit of Versailles of a commoner. Therefore as far as I'm concerned anything about the Pompadour and her position is fascinating, and I cheerfully picked up Nancy Mitford's biography of her. Nancy's Mitford's biography is quite biased (although she does admit some of Madame de Pompadour's faults) and makes for a sympathetic read. I almost felt sorry for Madame Etoiles as she made her first haphazard forays in to the French court (It took her several months to learn how to walk, talk and curtsy - and this was a woman considered to be at the apex of Paris society) The biography is gossipy and touches on enough of the greater political and social economic issues of the day to appreciate the importance of Madame de Pompadour's actions, although it barely glances at her legacy (if any).

I found Mitford utterly condescending in insisting on quoting people and maxims of the time in French. Occasionally she translates but mostly expects her reader to follow the archaic French and in doing so she often completely undermines her points. I know that a hundred years ago or earlier every educated person spoke a second language but this is really unacceptable for a book written in the 50s designed for a wide and not purely academic audience. I was left wondering whether the author had assumed French speaking or a certain level of education/class were a pre-requisite for an interest for reading historical biographies about the French or if she was just lazy. Nancy Mitford's well known tendencies towards self aware snobbery would imply the former. She also brazenly assumes her audience are British frequently referring to the French equivalent of 'Our' Knighthoods or 'Our' House of Lords.

Mitford's plummy upper class style is apparent throughout the book, to begin with I was annoyed at her inability to avoid personal opinion and use colloquial phrases. She variously accuses historical figures of being 'a dear old bore', 'tiresome', 'dowdy' and 'simply delicious' . She describes the Queen's social abilities with the assertion that, 'Nothing is so frumpish as last year's gambling game', and 'we must beg leave to doubt' another noble's opinion of the Queen's personality. Her greatest adjective for a minister is his notable 'goodness'- whatever that might objectively be. However after a while, I found I quite enjoyed Mitford's tone and felt I was on a tour through an aristocrats world with an aristocrat. What she thought was important for posterity was probably not far off what her subject's peers thought.

I'm not sure Mitford's biography is the best that can be found to cover the fascinating subject of Madame de Pompadour nor the French court, but is certainly unique and if you can forgive the lack of translation and aristocratic tone an enjoyable read.

EDIT: Grammar, spelling, uselessness

It's conker season!

I love conkers. I love finding them. I love sifting through the fallen leaves to get at them. I love prying them out of any remnant casings. I love polishing them up. I love pocketing them. The first conkers are here. They may be small and a little soft but they are here. Hooray!

Softminty adventures in yogurt cake land

I have been of the opinion of late that the ringbearer has been getting one too many cakes his way. Therefore I decided to concoct one of my favourite cakes, which includes yoghurt and strawberries. Somehow the ringbearer's puppy dog eyes did manage to persuade me to add malteasers instead of strawberries. But I was not completely manipulated! I have long pondered how to include mints into cakes. After all mints take up a large section of the sweetie shelves, shouldn't they be included in my experiments? Here was the ideal opportunity.Stage 1. Baking the chocolate cake base
Pretty boring really, except I added some malteasers just for fun
Stage 2. Playing with gelatine.
I love playing with gelatine (not much for vegetarian baking I'm afraid). Covering the sheets in water makes for a nice mystery when it comes to fishing around for the squishy gelatine. Subsequently squeazing the gunk before heating it in a pan is also very pleasant sensation. Nice and oozy.Stage 3. Making the yoghurty mix
Yoghurt, lime juice, whipped cream, sugar and gelatine. Yummy! This was then slopped onto the cake baseStage 4. Addition of the sweeties
I refused to go all malteasers, so most of the cake was still strawberry filled. A section was mixed with malteaser, a section was homogeneously malteaser and another section included lovely softmints.
Stage 5. Refrigeration and a discovery!
The yoghurt mix set quite nicely around the strawberries and malteasers. But fascinatingly the softmints melted (liquified)! My chemistry senses were twitching! Softmints become quickly chewy in the mouth and dissolve. Which might happen due to a change in pH rather than (as I thought) heat and agitation. Had my yoghurty mix been acidic enough to liquefy the softmints? Or had the presence of gelatine caused some sort of diffusion? Or had the softmints just givenup any semblance of solidity the moment they were exposed to the cold. Cowards!

The liquid softmints meant that the minty flavour had travelled further than expected within the cake and was not limited to pockets of mintyness. This was odd but not unpleasant and went quite well with strawberries. The malteasers also worked really very well. The ringbearer noted that the cake was the only one he had eaten that left a minty fresh aftertaste. Although he refused further comment as he was clearly bitter about the 'healthiness' of the strawberries. I therefore think that it would be easier to add mint cordial to the yoghurty mix rather than softmints to achieve the same taste sensation. The malteasers might be a permanent addition to the normal fruity goodness.

Any suggestions about the magic melting effect of cold yoghurt and gelatine on softmints are welcome.

Fantastic Mr Fox - where 'Roald Dahl' is too obscure

'Based on the book by the author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory'. What a ridiculous mouthful for a tagline! Is it just me or does it also cheerfully imply that audiences only know the Roald Dahl *films*? Worrying, very worrying. The Return of the King - based on the book by the author of 'The Two Towers'
Edit: grammar baby!

Being MISERly about the programme brings many problems

This Saturday I went to see the matinee performance of Molière's Miser performed at the Royal Exchange in Manchester. The tale of a miserly father trying to make money from marrying off his two children with somewhat predictable twists, misunderstandings and revelations. I'm very fond of the Royal Exchange. The theatre's futuristic pod squats brilliantly beneath the Victorian building's domes and columns, like a Dr Who Villain in it's non-contemporary lair. The pod itself is a glass multi-levelled piece of beauty that encloses a stage surrounded 360 degrees by seats that reach up to the ceiling. It is always fascinating to see how the players adapt and utilise the space to accommodate an audience that surrounds them. Personally I love seeing plays there, it's like looking down into a goldfish bowl at some very dramatic postulating fish.

Until I walked in to the matinee I knew nothing of Molière or his play 'The Miser'. What I did know within 3 minutes was that the production design was bold and brilliant. The cast all wearing a strange punk-17th century cross, with the miser's household covered in splashed white paint and dust. The stage itself was also white, filled with dripping pipes, occasional bare metal furniture and plastic sheeting that managed to be both modern and period at the same time. A brilliant touch was the gold barely hidden beneath the floorboards and visible only to those audience members willing to tilt their head and squint.

The performance combined some excellent bouts of choreographed chasing and comedic action, that suited the quick fire dialogue. The mime background of the movement director Julian Chagrin being very evident and an excellent addition to the play. Derek Griffiths[1] naturally excelled as Harpagan the Miser and was well supported by the younger cast. Other performances I enjoyed were Helen Atkinson Wood providing an excellent robust Frosine and Simon Gregor as a physically hilarious La Fleche. I laughed continuously and I even enjoyed when Harpagon interacted with the audience; a situation that normally makes me squirm. I found some fault with the actresses, who upon being given hooped dresses to wear all seemed to believe that their character's mannerisms should include unnecessarily grasping their skirts and swinging them about, but I was mostly entranced by their quick banter and comedic timing. Unfortunately the quality of the acting seemed undermined by the performances of Jaques and Signor Anselme. Jacques failed to sparkle or even keep up with his part of any interaction, providing a plodding delivery that seemed to be out of pace with everyone else, perhaps indicating an unfamiliarity with the role or the line's delivery. Signor Anselme was really quite awful, providing some of the most stilted line delivery I have ever seen and quite damaging my enjoyment of the last scenes.

This led me to be suspicious that the two actors might be understudies. However, I had not purchased a programme leaving me with no idea as to what the actors should look like. This led to some frantic internet searching and desperate face recognition but I struggled to draw conclusions. I just about confirmed that Signor Anselme was not played by the well known cast actor (Tim Barlow - him with the long coat in Hot Fuzz), but Jaques's portrayl remains something of a mystery. I therefore feel a little uncomfortable criticizing performances that might have been last minute additions. So I will still recommend the play as a very enjoyable few hour's entertainment. Sumptuous to look at, inventive, funny and somehow making 17th century dash-about, twisty comedy accessible and new.

Plus a note to myself: Buy the programme.

[1]He was the voice of SuperTed! Not that I could tell

Beer Wars!

Heineken has gone to court to stop a local Swiss group from distributing a spoof brand called Keineken (No Heineken). Heineken are apparently 'not amused'. Well I am very amused. Anything that sticks up two fingers to the giant breweries tends to be a good thing. We need variety in our beer and local bereweries deserve as much advertising as possible. Who next? Stella Nilpoi? Snarling yak label?

The Room - all glory to Tommy Wiseau!

I have now seen The Room in all its jaw-dropping brilliance three times and I feel I must recommend it here. I cannot begin to describe just how bad this film is. You just couldn't make a film this bad if you tried and this is integral to its genius. Seriously, at any given nanosecond you are torn into a thousand atoms trying to establish if *anything* is correct with the scene you are watching. There is not a section of the movie-making process that is correct. From the editing, directing, acting, writing, lighting, set, music, cuts, plot, costumes everything is gloriously, wonderfully wrong. It is little wonder that it is a cult film.

The first time I saw The Room, I spent the entire film with my jaw open struggling desperately to work out what was going on [1]. As the glorious travesty unfurled I found that every time I managed to just about establish what the intended plot was, I was struck lightening like by yet another stand-alone piece of continuity/lighting/acting/directing error. I laughed only when I could, for there was not space to breathe and assess the next moment of filmic confusion and arrogance.

The Room requires at least 2 watchings for it is almost impossible to form a heckle whilst digesting the next onslaught of stunning failure. Of course some bits are more painful that others. Why are footballs only thrown 3ft? Why must we have so many sex scenes that last the length of the soft-rock soundtrack? Why is Johnny humping his girlfriend's hip? Why does everyone keep turning up and walking in and out again? What happened to the drugs/drug money? Who was the psychologist? Where the hell was Johnny from? What about the cancer? And the baby? Spoon! Johnny is Christ getting a blow job? What is wrong with Denny? What happened to the very specific pizza? Why doesn't Denny use a chair? Why are they wearing tuxes? The questions, like The Room 's panning shots across San Francisco will never end. Nor should they. Watch this film, it's good for your soul.

Brickyard jimmy says it all better than I ever could.

[1] In fact a friend, during his first viewing was forced to split one character into two to try and aid his comprehension of what-was-going-on.

As happy as pigs in an artery clogging cake - the anti benecol

Upon coming across a nice looking recipe in the Sunday papers, I decided to persue some baking that didn't involve sweets or covering my camera in batter. Of course the moment I walked into M&S this idea was scuppered. The gloriously tasty Percy Pigs were by the cashier. I instantly jumped upon the notion that as they were large and foamy rather than gummi, they might not melt in such a counter productive as mini teleporting gummi bears. Surely a few pilot piggies wouldn't hurt an already unknown recipe? Plus the ringbearer looked positively delighted when I left the health food shop with Macademia nuts and nothing that looked like fruit or tofu, so I thought I could use that good currency to keep him guinea pigging.
Stage 1. Following the recipe I masterfully separated eggs (OK one bit of shell got in) and ground the nuts into a fine pulp. Just coz they were looking at me funny! Yeah! On a side note nuts are expensive, in future I might try mixing them up with something cheaper, like hazelnuts..... or sawdust.Stage 2. I then made the ovely gooey chocolatey, nutty mess. And found a problem. Its the old how to fold in sweets with beaten egg whites scenario. Would adding the piggies at this stage effect the airyness of my folding? I decided not to find out and elegantly folded away.

Stage 3. Shlomped the goo into a lined baking tin. The consistency was approximately that of blue tack. Definitely more elastic than viscous. If only I could have put it in a rheometer and found out more! With this punch resisting consistency came problems. How to insert the pigs? I tried putting them in sideways and hoping they would sink below the goo leaving one pink trotter dramatically held aloft. But no such luck (see the photo at the top). These piggies didn't seem to like chocolately, nutty mud and were trying to run all the ways home. So I forced their little heads under the mixture by he vicious application of a cocktail stick.
Stage 4. Baking was successful, although as you can see form above there was piggie rupture. But at least I knew where to look for them this time.

The ringbearer snaffled a chunk of cake before I could even point out where the piggies were. He helpfully offered the review, 'Tastes better than it has any right to'. Personally I didn't know cakes had rights and was a little concerned about how I had been violating them. In my opinion the piggies, which were still whole and tasty added a certain something without tasting artificial to an otherwise terrifyingly dense and rich cake. (The ringbearer was delighted with this causer of instant obesity and continued to wade through the cake with scary commitment.) After a 3cm^2 piece I was forced to have a lie down to try and clear my arteries.

Importantly I have now discovered that Percy Pigs are a key ingredient in sweetie/cake fusion baking. Under cake conditions they don't teleport, they stay pink and they taste nice. Trust M&S.

Suggestions for further baking always welcome

Pritt stick decides to enforce a stereotype - my first rant post!

I love pritt sticks. They, more than any doll, car, lego set or teddy bear made me a very happy child. Which is why I was so disgusted to spy the above item on WHSmiths' shelves. It appears pritt stick is no longer unisex, no longer a simple tool to aid the creativity of developing children. No, we now have pink pritt stick: 'Just 4 girls'. Pink is a colour that is thrust upon young girls as 'their' colour by marketing and old fashioned idiots from a very early age. I know some researchers come up with notions to say otherwise [1], but I refuse to believe that it is healthy to declare one colour suitable for 'girls only' and then market it to them and their parents indiscriminatingly. It is as unfair to little boys as to the little girls to declare them separate entities who can have little in common.

Why do we need a pink pritt stick? I doubt girls need encouraging into the arena of 'sticking things'. Why don't boys have a pritt stick 'Just 4 boys'? Why can't boys use pink? Is it in any way correct to tell boys to use the grown up pritt stick whilst telling the girls -that as they are girls- they should use something childish and frivolous?

So thank you pritt stick, for removing another unisex activity from those available to children, you were once my dear dear friend. I expected this rubbish from Mattel and Toys R Us but not from you. If you had just marketed coloured pritt sticks, I would have totally bought a purple one.

[1] Disputed here

Strudel Surprises - when mars bars, tootie fruities and cherries collide

I had intended to limit my strudel experiments to just mars bars. Standing in the newsagents perusing the selection, it became clear I needed to push the pastry envelope and I came home laden with Fudge bar, Mars bar, Munchies and a packet of Tooty Fruities. I decided against normal strudel and instead went for strudel packets (typically full of crushed lady fingers, almonds, marzipan and cherries), which allowed me a dazzling rainbow of sweetie experimentation. The report:
1. Ring and finger crisis. I forgot to buy lady fingers! Clearly these would be needed for moisture absorbtion, sweetness and bulk. I therefore decided to use party rings instead. Because they are sweet, they matched the theme of my experiment and I like eating them. So as not to appear prejudiced, I carefully decided to crush one party ring of each colour, instead of limiting myself to the orange ones.2. Pastry preparation. Not from a packet. Nooo. Lovingly made according to Dr Oetker's recipe and then rolled and stretched out on a tea towel.3. Filling decsions. The inside of the pastry squares was then smeared with ukky egg mixture in preparation for the filling. At this point I realised how foolish I was to have so many options. All the parcels needed to contain the almond/ party ring biscuit mix but would Marsbar go with marzipan, would Munchies go with cherries? I eventually decided on a list of varying fillings following the basic combinations shown below (notable exception being tooty fruities andthe fudge bar, which were always combined with cherries)

Sweetie + Cherries +marzipan
Sweetie + Cherries
Sweeties4. Parcel construction. This was very messy and in the process my careful planning came apart. Soon I could not remember what filling was in what what packet! Disaster? Not for the stout of heart, I decided instead that I had invented strudel roulette and the mystery(like that found in a packet of Revels) would add to the fun.
5. Baking The parcels were lovingly baked with only a few marsbarish ruptures. They were then messily dusted with icing sugar and served with a helpful warning about the contents.
Results!It didn't prove entirely impossible to tell the packets apart. To me, Munchies were pretty similar to marsbar and fudge. However, tooty fruities were very distinctive. Offering the cherries a strange fake-fruit after-taste to what was blatently real fruit. Fascinating. Anything chocolatey and cherries went well and even the marzipan seemed to work. The ringbearer complained bitterly when he got a normal cherry packet instead of a chocolatey one and offered extensive further insights into the strudel saying 'The experiment was successful', 'Munchies were the nicest' and 'Leave me alone, I'm watching the cricket'. So it's nice to know his assesments have reached 2 sentences instead of 1. Ultimately, I like fruit, so I'm not sure adding mars bar was a success, but I am apparently in the minority in this preference. But where next? An enormous Altrincham-Marsbar strudel? Or an upside down cake replacing pineapple rings with gummi snakes?