Cough Cough (I know, STILL)

I might have mentioned a time or 20 that I have had a bad cough the last couple of weeks.  Well, 15 days on and it still hasn't completely left me.  It would seem it has grown rather fond of me and is reluctant to end our relationship just yet.  I, on the other hand, have had more than enough and Mr Cough and all your little sniffly nose, achy ear, sore head chums, it is OVER.  I'm kicking you to the kerb.  Dumping you. Have you got the picture? 

In an attempt to kill off any last lingering carresses on your part I am sending in the big guns.  Vitamins and minerals shall be coarsing through my system this week, appetite or no appetite, through the medium of large steaming bowls of homemade vegetable soup.  Now it would be rude to eat a big bowl of scrummilicious soup without a little soakage, as it were, to compliment it.  For this reason I have decided the only thing up to this job has got to be a couple of deliciously fresh slices of homemade walnut bread.

*Please read on after the recipe for some notes and observations I made.  The recipe is adapted from a Jamie Oliver one and it is obvious he has minions to run around after him cleaning up his mess, so for a cleaner baking experience and a saner you I have made some amendments after the original recipe.

Walnut Bread

500g Wholemeal Flour
500g Strong White Flour
625ml Tepid Water
30g Fresh Yeast or 3 x 7g Sachets Dried Yeast
2tbsp Sugar
2 level tsp Sea Salt
455g Walnuts Peeled (crush half until coarse and the remaining half to a fine powder)
115g Butter (at room temperature)

1.  Pile both types of flour on to a clean surface and make a large well in the centre.  Pour half of the water into the well, then add your yeast, sugar and salt and stir well with a fork.
2.  Slowly, but carefully, bring in the flour from the inside of the well (be careful not to break the walls of the well so as not to allow the water to escape).
3.  Continue to incorporate the flour into the centre until you get a stodgy, porridgey consistency.
4.  Add the remaining water and continue to mix until it is stodgy again, be a little more aggressive with it at this stage incorporating all of the flour, making the mixture less sticky.
5.  Add in the walnuts and butter at this stage and mix well to incorporate.
6.  Flour your hands and pat and push the dough together (if more water is needed at this time add a little to adjust)
7.  Knead the dough for 4-5 minutes until you have a silky, elastic dough.
8.  Flour the top of the dough, place it in a bowl, cover in cling film and allow it to prove for half an hour until it has doubled in size (ideally allow it to prove in a warm, moist, draught free place).
9.  Once the dough has doubled in size knock the air out of it by giving it a bit of a bashing.  At this stage shape it as required be it into a round, a loaf or smaller individual servings.  Leave it to prove a second time for 30 minutes.
10. While the bread is proving for the second time flour a baking sheet and preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/Gas 4.
11. Once the dough has doubled in size dust the top with some flour and gently transfer to the prepared baking sheet.  Place in the preheated oven and bake for approx 30 mins until lightly golden (to check that it is cooked tap the bottom, if it sounds hollow it is cooked, if it doesn't pop it back in the oven for a further 5 minutes and check again).
12. Transfer to a wire rack and allow to cool for 30 mins before getting stuck in.

*Above is the recipe and instructions that I followed, but I have to be honest, it was very messy and I got a bit stressed with flour and water going in all directions and then trying to incorporate the walnuts.  The next time I make this bread (and I will make it again because it is completely yum) I will probably do it as outlined below.*

1.  In a very large bowl (use the biggest bowl you have as there is a lot of flour) add both types of flour and the walnuts.  Give them a quick stir to mix them all together.
2.  Make a well in the centre and pour in half of the water.
3.  Add the yeast, sugar and salt to the water and give a little mix to combine.
4.  Slowly start to bring in flour from the inside of the well until you get a stodgy, porridgey consistency.
5.  Make another little well and add the remaining water and continue to bring the remaining dry mix in until you again reach a stodgy, porridgey consistency.
6.  Cut the butter into rough 1cm cubes and dot all over the mixture and then mix thoroughly to incorporate throughout the mixture (make sure your butter is quite soft to make this easier, mine had been out of the fridge for over an hour.  Also I mixed everything by hand so that I could really attack it and give it a good mix).
7.  Place the mixture on to a clean work surface and knead for 4-5 minutes until you have a silky, elastic dough.
8.  Flour the top of the dough, place it in a bowl, cover in cling film and allow it to prove for half an hour until it has doubled in size (ideally allow it to prove in a warm, moist, draught free place.  I popped mine into the hot press).
9. Once the dough has doubled in size knock the air out of it by giving it a bit of a bashing. At this stage shape it as required, be it into a round, a loaf or smaller individual servings and place onto a floured baking sheet. Leave it to prove a second time for 30 minutes. (this recipe yields a monster loaf so if it just for 1 or 2 people I would advise dividing in 2 before baking and freezing one loaf for later use)
10. While the bread is proving for the second time flour preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/Gas 4.
11. Once the dough has doubled in size dust the top with some flour and place in the preheated oven and bake for approx 30 mins until lightly golden (to check that it is cooked tap the bottom, if it sounds hollow it is cooked, if it doesn't pop it back in the oven for a further 5 minutes and check again).
12. Transfer to a wire rack and allow to cool for 30 mins before getting stuck in.

Happy Birthday E (7)

A certain little someone I know is turning 7 tomorrow.  I decided to bake her a pretty little pink cake today to kick start celebrations for her birthday weekend.  She is a standard 7 year old who loves all things pretty, princess and pink so I decided to bake her a pink sponge cake with pink frosting and lashings of sparkles and prettiness.  All went well barring the colour of the sponge which remained decidedly un-pink really(after adding 6 drops of red colouring following the milk at stage 6 of the recipe I decided to call it quits and rely on pink frosting to provide a suitable princess themed cake).  It would seem sponge cake requires rather a lot more colouring than frosting and icing so next time I will lace it with the stuff.  It was a rather pretty little cake none the less and the sight of her little eyes lighting up when she saw it was approval enough for me.  Happy birthday E, have a fabulous princess day.

Madeira Cake with Pink Frosting

for the cake

175g/6oz Unsalted Butter (softened)
175g/6oz Sugar
3 Eggs
1tsp Vanilla Extract
225g/8oz Plain Flour
1tsp Baking Powder
2tbsp Milk

for the frosting

80g Butter (softened)
250g Icing Sugar
1-2drops Vanilla Extract
25ml Milk
approx 4 drops of Red Food Colouring (I used liquid colouring in this recipe)

1.  Preheat the oven to 170°C/325°F/Gas 3.
2.  Line the bottom of an 8" round cake tin with grease proof paper and grease the sides with butter.
3.  Place the butter in a bowl and cream using a hand held electric whisk.
4.  Add the sugar and beat for a minute.
5.  Add the eggs individually while continuing to beat, and then add the vanilla.
6.  Fold in the sieved flour and baking powder, and then add the milk. (red food colouring was added to the mix at this stage but did not make a difference to the colour after 6 drops so was abandoned)
7.  Transfer the mixture into the prepared tin and place in the preheated oven.  Bake for 55-65 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean.
8.  Remove from the oven and place on a wire rack to cool.
9.  While waiting for the cake to cool make the frosting.
10. Place the icing sugar and butter in a bowl and beat with a hand held electric whisk until well combined.
11. In a seperate bowl combine the milk and vanilla extract and then add to the butter mixture a couple of tablespoons at a time.
12. When all of the milk has been incorporated add in 4 drops of food colouring and then turn the whisk up to full speed and beat for at least 5 minutes until the frosting is light and fluffy.  (if you would like a deeper colour frosting add in more food colouring 1 drop at a time and incorporate fully before adding more)*
13. Once the cake has cooled spread the frosting all over using a spatula or palette knife and decorate to your liking.

* you can use any food colouring of your choice to adapt the cake to be suitable for a boy or an adult.  I have used liquid food colouring as it is what I had available to me but you could use paste, powder or gel colourants and adjust quantities as necessary.

A little pinktastic I know, but for a 7 yr old it was frosted perfection!

The night a superstar met my mam

I caught some snippets of Gerry Ryan's funeral this morning via rte.ie.  I was struck by the dignity of the service and the lack of pomp and ceremony that surrounded a man, who I for some reason had in my mind as one of arrogance and smugness.  I now realise I may have reached this assumption based on edited snippets of him on TV I had seen in my teens that coloured my judgement, meaning I never really took to the man.  On reflection, and having heard those close to him and who loved him speak of him in the past few days I was obviously only privy to the bravado and not the loving family man and friend.  However I digress, the point of this post arose when the revered Bono sang via some form of technological link up from New York.  Now maybe it is just me but I thought he over did it a bit, dragging the end of the song out with lots of oooh oooh oooohing in high notes and the like, but he is always a bit of an arse in my mind.  Hearing him sing however brought to mind a funny memory for me.  Where am I going with all of this you are probably saying to yourself, I shall tell you without further ado.

About 10 years ago now, on Christmas Eve, I was sitting at home with my sister.  My eldest sister may have been there too but I only remember there being the two of us in the sitting room.  So there we were in our new Christmas Eve jammies, Mr Boo and her husband (we were both still only courtin' at the time) had been sent off home to wrap our pressies and we were a buzz of excitement at the prospect of Santa's impending visit. 

The phone rang and my sis picked it up.  She always answered it, she's the chatty one and I'm the family mute you see.  On the other end was what seemed to be a manic woman speaking in a hushed whisper.  It was in fact our mam who was at a Christmas Eve party and had excused herself to the bathroom but was in fact in the bedroom making a sneaky phone call.  Friends of my parents were holding the party in question in a salubrious suite in a very nice Dublin hotel.  Whilst people were mingling at the bar or around the Christmas tree, mam and her friend took up residence in the adjoining bedroom to ring her girls to share with them some gossip that just wouldn't wait until she got home.  The following is a rough transcription of the conversation that followed: (I would like to apologise in advance for the bad language and just state that my mam wasn't really one for swearing except the occasional use of the F word)

Loud whisper, "Hello, hello.  Can you hear me?"
Sister, "Yes mam, what's wrong?"
Loud whisper, "I'm in the bedroom so I can't talk too loudly in case anyone hears me"
Sister, "But mam there's a party in the other room, who is gonna hear you?"
Loud whisper, "You can never be too careful with these things.  Are you both there, can you both hear me?"
Sister gestures me over, "Yes mam, we're both here, we can here you".
Me, "Hi mam, are you having a nice time?"
You see, had I not spoken she would have asked for confirmation I was there and that I could in fact hear her, so I thought I'd save her the trouble.
Loud whisper, "You'll never guess who's here?"
Holy sweet mother of Jesus, never play a guessing game with my sister, it could go on for all of eternity if you didn't interrupt her with the correct answer.  She is the type of person that if you start a conversation with "you won't believe what happened to me today", she will continue to interrupt you with various ridiculous scenarios at 5 second intervals.  That's when the guessing began.  Thankfully my mam hadn't time for this so she cut her off fairly quickly.
Loud whisper, "Bono, Bono is here, and the other fella, what's his name?"
In unison, "Bono, seriously?"
Loud whisper, "Yeah, Bono.  And the other fella."
Me, "The Edge?"
Loud Whisper, "Yeah, him."
In unison, "Wow, what are they like? Oh my God, I can't believe we're not there with you!"
Loud whisper, "Well your man Bono is a bit of a w***** really."
In unison, and in complete disbelief at the shocking language that has just left our mothers mouth, "MAM!"
Loud whisper, "What? He is, you wanna see the way he shook my hand, you'd get a better shake off the queen, and the size of him.  No, he's nothing but a w*****.  Thinks he's great he does, swanning around.  The other fella is alright."
Silence at our end at the revelation that our mam was spending Christmas Eve in the presence of half of U2 and that she was branding Bono with the W word.
Loud whisper, "Have to go, someone's coming." Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppp

So there we were, two fine young things (in our minds anyway) sitting at home in our flannelette pyjamas, our mam out partying with rock stars.  We waited up for her and my dad to return home that night and she again confirmed the above and would not be swayed on her opinion of him.  My mam didn't tolerate nonsense in anybody, regardless of wallet size or public standing and it would seem Bono was no exception.  Rightly so in my opinion.  He might sing a nice tune, and he might have raised a few million here and there for charity but if you can't do a decent hand shake and lower yourself to share a few civil words with the mere mortals on Christmas Eve well then you just didn't cut the mustard with my mam and were regarded as nothing but a w*****.

I had the pleasure of meeting them a couple of years later and can confirm she was in fact correct about Mr Bono, but The Edge was completely charming and lovely and I have not since washed my left cheek *faints dramatically at the delicious memory*.

It doesn't matter if it's cock eyed, it's the taste that counts!

I love this ad



It for me encapsulates the essence of baking. Who cares if it doesn't always look like perfection personified? It is how it tastes that is truly important.  Sometimes it might not come away from the tin cleanly, someimes it might crack as it cools, sometimes it might fall apart as you slice it in half to ice.  So what, that is what icing and frosting were designed for.  Just lash on a generous amount to glue it all together and hide the war wounds and who is gonna know?

So, dust off your apron and get out your mixing bowl and just give it a go.  Go on, there's nothing to be afraid of, and you might even enjoy it.

Normal Service Will Resume Shortly, I Hope!

I am currently typing this post from my death bed.  OK, OK, death bed is a bit dramatic but I feel like I should be in some form of bed.  I have been stricken down (yet again, and less than 2 months since my last bout of illness) by a particularly bad asthma induced cough.  I blame Iceland and it's feckin' ash spewing volcano for my current state but sure where does blame ever get you, eh?  Anyhoo, I am on day 5 of the most horrendous barking cough and in the last 48hrs have had approximately 5 hours sleep.  My body is now in a degree of pain that quite frankly I could do without and goes into spasm with every little cough.  You would think that that would be enough for one person, but oh no, to add insult to injury my nose has decided to react to some sort of air borne allergen and is suitably swollen and painful.  As you can imagine, all of the above has left me with no inclination to enter the kitchen let alone whip up a batch of something lovely, and as I also have no appetite I'm shagged if I'm gonna sit back and watch someone else scoff the lot.  I have therefore made the executive decision to give my apron the week off and I shall return to baking next week.  I hope you all have a lovely weekend. I'm off now to do a bit more coughing, sure why not, it's not like I haven't already done a years worth this week. *cough cough*

Are yiz listening down the back?

Well, are yiz?  I thought I might impart a little knowledge onto you lucky, lucky people today.  Now, I may just be a big thicko for not figuring this one out all by myself but when I spied Kevin Dundon on the Afternoon Show a couple of years ago and he gave out this little gem of information I was agog at it's simple brilliance.  I couldn't tell you what he was baking on that particular day but I have never forgotten this little tip and it has saved me much time and hair pulling since.

I bake mostly round cakes, don't ask me why, I just do.  Most cakes call for baking tins to be lined with grease proof or parchment paper to avoid having to chisel them off the bottom when cooked.  I used to end up all in a tangle with paper, tin, pencil and scissors all on the go at once. I would tear off a ridculously large piece of grease proof paper, place the baking tin on top, draw around the shape of said baking tin with pencil whilst battling back the corners that kept curling uncontrollably, cut a circle (a rather wonky circle) using the pencil line as a guide and finally place my paper into the tin and berrate myself about the areas where I had obviously strayed very far away from the line.

That was the sad scenario I faced until that glorious afternoon when Kevin Dundon saw fit to impart his knowledge onto the Irish viewing public.  So here it is for you lovelies to either say, "ah sure I knew that already, a chimp could figure that out", or, "sing Hosanna's my cake tin lining prayers have been answered".

1.  Cut a piece of grease proof paper slightly bigger than the tin you are lining.

2.  Fold in half.

3.  Fold in half again to form a small square.

4.  Fold in half diagonally to give a triangular shape.

5.  Fold in half again if required to give a long, thin triangle.

6.  Place the point of the triangle roughly in the centre of the tin and press down at the outer edge of the paper to mark where to cut.

7.  Remove from the tin and cut along the crease near the outer edge.

8.  Open out the folds and you should have a perfect circle to fit into the bottom of the tin. Et voila!

Peanut Brittle (GF)

I was leafing through some of my recipe books yesterday praying for inspiration for something to bake today when this little lovely caught my attention.  Now it is not exactly baking before you start getting all technical on me, possibly confectionery making, but I knew immediately that it was something I wanted to make.

I haven't had this in years but my mam and sister and I used to happily munch our way through a bag of this when my mam would pick it up in the shop.  My mam would nearly always have a bag of something or other in her handbag.  Nougat was a firm favourite of hers and she would stock up on the little clear bags of it in M&S, very handy for spying the biggest piece and then fishing it out, shoving it in your gob whole and getting an unmerciful pain in your jaw from trying to break it down.  Other times it would be a slab of toffee with ginormous Brazil nuts scattered over the top, again the aul jaw got a serious workout with this bad boy.

Probably my favourite though was the lovely brown heavy paper bag that held the amber loveliness of peanut brittle.  I'm not sure exactly why I liked this so much.  It might have been the feeling of the shards being crushed between my teeth, the lovely peanut flavour being released or the contrast of the little salty bits of nut against the sugary toffee brittle.  Whatever it was one thing I am sure of is that my hand would return to the bag many times until the heart sinking moment when all that brushed against my little fingers was paper, no more sugary goodness.  We three had eaten it all.

I have never made this before or indeed tasted any homemade version but was really excited to try it out and I was not disappointed.  It is lovely and crumbly, so no need to fear for your gnashers, and it has a lovely creamy toffee flavour.  Totally yum and needs to be locked away or there will be none left for anyone else.

Peanut Brittle

225g/8oz Butter (diced)
225g/8oz Caster Sugar
50ml Water
1/2tsp Salt
150g Salted Peanuts or
100g Salted Peanuts & 50g Cocolate Covered Peanuts

1.  Place the butter, sugar, salt and water into a heavy based saucepan.
2.  Bring to the boil over a medium heat, stirring until the sugar has dissolved.
3.  Reduce the heat to low and allow to simmer, unstirred, for 20-25* mins until a sugar thermometer dipped* in reads 150°C/302°F.  (the exact temperature is very important, not hot enough and it will not set, too hot and it will taste burnt)
4.  While waiting for the mixture to reach the correct temp, line a baking sheet with some grease proof paper and then scatter the peanuts on the tray in a nice even layer. (the peanut brittle I remember just had regular peanuts throughout but I decided to add in some chocolate covered ones to add an extra dimension.  Add in nuts to suit your personal preference eg. cashews, brazil nuts or alternatively enjoy the brittle plain)
***VERY IMPORTANT.  BE CAREFUL AT THIS STAGE AS YOU ARE WORKING WITH AN EXTREMELY HOT MIXTURE***
5.  Once the mixture has readched the desired temperature remove from the heat and carefully pour onto the prepared baking sheet.
6.  Allow to set for 10 mins and then transfer to the fridge to cool and complete the setting process.
7.  Break into pieces and enjoy. (banging the baking sheet on the work surface a few times should do it)

***Notes***
I have to admit that it took me 2 attempts to make this.  The first time I was a little preoccupied with the anticipation of what I was making and ignored the submersion line on the sugar thermometer meaning by the time I realised my mistake the mixture had passed 150°C without me noticing and turned into a lumpy mess, yuck.  I combatted this problem by making the second batch in a smaller saucepan (use the smallest you have that will accomodate the ingredients) to ensure the thermometer was submerged adequately at all times.

Secondly, I found the timings in the recipe a little off for my hob and it took me approx 35 mins, I have included the original timings in the recipe above but please be aware that all appliances vary so just check the temperature every few minutes and adjust the time accordingly.

My Mam

I started this blog as a means of documenting my baking trials and tribulations and also to encourage myself to practice my favourite hobby more.  Underlying this though I think there was also a longing to share and preserve the memory of  a truly remarkable woman, my mam.

I use the word remarkable but when you read on you may decide to disagree with my description, but for me my mam was a truly remarkable and inspirational woman and shall remain that way always in my memory.  My mam was not college educated, she did not have a successful career, and nor did she amass any guise of wealth during her time on this earth, for many the mark of success or greatness.  She was however a truly wonderful person full of kindness, generousity and love, true markers of a persons greatness in my humble eyes.

My mam would sing her way through every day.  No matter how early in the morning or late in the evening she would sing a song to accompany whatever task it was she was busying herself with.  She was always busy and only sat down in the evenings to talk on the phone or watch Coronation Street.  Once she got on the phone you may forget about communication with the outside world because the line would be busy for hours on end.  She would call her best friend who's sole company she would have shared for a few hours that morning in work but they would still manage to speak for a minimum of two hours, then her sisters who would get an hour or two conversation each.  Anyone else who happened to call would be afforded at least a half hour of her precious time. 

As for watching the tv, if she saw 5 minutes of any given programme she was doing well as she had a habit of falling asleep once she sat down and relaxed and would snore so loudly that no one else could view the tv unless it was at maximum volume.  On a Saturday night if she had the tv to herself she would settle in front of the fire to watch a movie.  When questioned the next day about the movie she would give the most fanciful and unrealistic account of what had gone on, and then we finally realised why when we joined her on a Saturday evening.  She would start off watching a movie and then about half way through on an ad break she might have a little flick around to see what else is on and pause on another movie.  She would then nod off for a few minutes and wake forgetting she had changed channel and so end up watching half a rom com and half a slasher thriller, casting all movies off as rubbish.

When we were little and it was a miserable Sunday afternoon she would drag the sofa in front of the fire(it was usually positioned along a wall and if you were at the far end you would freeze the choppers off yourself), put on whatever old movie was showing on RTE 1 and we would all pile on with a bunch of goodies and snuggle up.  My dad always gave us money to go to the shop for goodies on a Sunday afternoon and his last words to our backs as we hurried out the door would be, "and a large Whole Nut for your mam".  It was the same every week, her favourite bar and mine now if I am given the choice, so we would hand over the 60p and then run back down the hill to the house for her to enjoy whilst sitting on the sofa.  If you snuggled in beside her you were guaranteed the offer of a mind(her word for a special cuddle).  I think she enjoyed the comfort just as much as her 3 girlies, but you had to beware if you happened to be wearing a nice knitted jumper or cardigan as she loved to sit and pick a hole in them.  So there you would sit safely nestled in her lap, her warm breath falling on your face, her thoughts rambling far far away as she gently rocked you back and forth and sang her madey up lullaby about old Johnny Boo being put in a shoe.

Like my sisters and my niece she was a great one for talking(I'm the quiet one in the family, a bit like my dad), she could talk for Ireland.  As I have already said she would spend hours on the phone but she was known by all and well liked in the area so if she stepped foot outside the door she would find someone who would stop to talk to her.  Our local newsagents was 3 minutes away and or local grocery store 10 minutes tops.  My mam could go to either and be gone for 3 or 4 hours(no exaggeration) because she would only manage to get a few steps before running into someone who would stop her, she would leave that person and then run into someone else.  If she ever asked you if you wanted to go with her and you made the mistake of saying yes you learnt your lesson for at least a few months as you stood there bored out of your bicky as she enquired after Nancy's bunions and Barry's piles.

Her love for and skill at shopping could have provided her with a very successful career.  She would browse the shops in the city centre at least a few times a week and never came home empty handed.  A result of her warmth and friendliness meant she was on first name terms with the sales assistants in all of her favourite shops who would put items aside for her as they arrived in store knowing she would like them or tell her to hold off on a purchase as it would be 50% off the next day.  She would shop for her 3 girls and always bought the perfect thing for each of us with our different tastes.  When I was a teenager I would regularly meet her on a Thursday evening for late night shopping.  We would start off by heading to the cafe in Roches Stores.  Mam would usually have, "a nice slice of quiche", followed by a cream cake and I would have an ice cream, mint choc chip with chocolate sauce, served in a stainless steel sundae bowl that would freeze the hand off you.  Mam was a non smoker but would sit on the edge of the smoking section as the layout meant that the smoke from there would blow up to the non smoking section, but sitting here you escaped that.  We would then spend the evening shopping, inevitably being spoilt rotten by her buying everything I liked and then before heading for the bus there would be a mad dash when she would say, "we better get something for your father or there'll be a face if we come home empty handed", a Caramello usually did the job.

She possessed and endless supply of care and kindness that stretched far beyond her immediate family.  If a neighbour or friend fell ill she was first to their door or hospital bed with a bunch of flowers or box of chocolates.  She knew everybodies favourite and would be sure to buy get well gifts accordingly, no 'one present fits all' shenanigans with her.  She would give up hours of her time to those in need.  It would be nothing for her to sit with someone for 2 hours or more to bide the time until a family member finished work or just to fill the gap between lunch and tea time and alleviate the boredom and loneliness.  She could catch up on her own to do list later and never complained that her day had been lengthened for the sake of someone else.  Couple with this her ability to view and treat all as equals regardless of there ability or outward beauty and it is no surprise she was so well loved and to this day remembered with great fondness by all who had the good fortune to encounter her briefly or if they were lucky to have her in their lives for many, many years.

She took pride in her appearance and while she was never out of her slippers or apron in the house she wouldn't dream of leaving the house without a slick of lipstick.  She held a 9:30am appointment every Saturday for as long as I can remember in our local hairdressers and would have her hair blowdried weekly, and a colour and cut every few weeks.  She had a penchant for blue eyeliner, something I don't think I will be adopting, and always had a stash of pink lippies on the go which when worn would migrate to her teeth after a while.  I have a diminished sense of smell due to a botched adenoids op but to this day can still conjure up the scent of her various perfumes.  When I was little it was gold topped bottles of Apple Blossom, a scent that it seems impossible to buy these days, Estee Lauder's Beautiful and YSL Paris and in later years Chanel No. 5.  Scents that still conjure up memories as they waft past my nose in the street, in a store, sitting in a restaurant.

My mam didn't possess what might be described as a quick wit.  She loved to laugh and was always smiling, regardless, but was never really the one to induce laughter in others.  But on some rare occasions she would come out with the most brilliant one liner that would reduce her to fits of tear falling, leg crossing, stomach aching laughter.  I loved when she laughed like that.  I have noticed in recent years that I have that same belly laugh, I hate the sound of it coming from my mouth as it is akin to a donkey braying, but from my mam I loved it and it always made me smile at how thoroughly she was enjoying those few moments, revelling in her fleeting comic genius.

So there you have it, a snapshot of the person my mam was.  She was this and so, so much more but these are some of the things that I remember with great fondness.  As I have said, to some it would appear that she did not achieve anything remarkable in her life, to me she was a teacher, carer, shoulder to cry on, mentor, guide, safe haven, cheerleader and to this day remains my greatest inspiration in life.   Remarkable or not, she was simply my mam.

Happy Birthday M (3)

It was my niece's birthday last week and she had a little tea party on Saturday to celebrate.  She turned 3, imagine being 3 years old again and looking at all of the wonderful things the world is filled with through those innocent eyes.  For a 3 year old the world is indeed filled with wonder, even the tiniest of things can fill you with amazement and the most mundane can be turned into an adventure.  I see this when I look at my niece and revel in it.  Her eyes are always on the look out for the next mountain to climb, jungle to explore or villain to capture. 

She possesses a trait I never have and have always envied in my piers, and here she is at 3 and she has mastered it.  She is fearless in her outlook.  The higher she can climb, the further she has to fall the faster she can go on her swing and the taller she can bounce on her trampoline the better.  She doesn't stand back and weigh the situation in her mind, make a mental checklist of all the dangers that lie in the next action she is contemplating and then decide that on second thoughts it's not such a great idea, she just does it.  I have always been the opposite and still am to this day, I over analyse everything until all of the fun has been taken out of it.  I am a big old fraidy cat and know that I always will be.  I look at her with my stomach in my mouth (seriously, she is always attempting some stunt or other) and then watch as she emerges from each task triumphant and moves onto something a little more daring and hope if I spend enough time under her tutelage that her bravery might just rub off on me.

She is also a professional bossy boots.  Sometimes she does it in such a sweet and cute way you don't even realise you are being ordered here, there and yonder at her behest.  With age though she is developing a confidence in her powers and adopts a hands on the hips stance and a very stern voice as she points her little finger in the direction she is dispatching you.  She has the men in her life well and truly wrapped around her little pinkie, while the women around her will occasionally pull her up and give her a little talking to, the male of the species will do as she wishes without question.  Her granddad is the worst offender in this instance, it would seem age has softened him and he will let her away with murder allowing her worse misdemeanours to go unscolded and chastising anyone who dares to set her right.

When she is not being serious and keeping her minions in check she will be laughing somewhere, a gorgeous infectious all is right with the world laugh.  It is the kind of laugh that should be bottled and kept for dark and rainy days when nothing can lift the melancholic fog.  She laughs most when she is with her granddad, they are the bestest buds and have such fun together despite the 68 year age gap.  She is intelligent beyond her years and knows how to make others laugh and does so with the timing of Peter Kay to plaster a smile on all of the faces looking back on hers.  She generates laughter through her actions sometimes, making funny faces or a comedy fall, but more often than not it is through her witty dialogue.  She talks incessantly, never stops.  Even when you have moved your attentions from her and have started to converse with someone else she will still be nattering away at your elbow not stopping and just biding her time until your attentions return to her and her ridiculously funny and scarily intelligent ramblings.

These are just a few of the reasons why I love this tiny, golden haired beauty who came into all of our lives 3 years ago.  She was born to doting parents, a besotted granddad, and aunties and uncles who love her as though she were their own.  It is no wonder then that above all of her wonderful traits she is full of love and kindness.  She soaks it up like a sponge from all of those around her and it is so abundant in her that it seems to just ooze from every ounce of her tiny being.  I am amazed by her on an almost daily basis and will continue to watch her and learn from her over the years to come, and who knows maybe I will teach her a thing or two, just maybe.  Happy birthday M, love you lots.

In honour of M's birthday chocolate cupcakes were made and adorned with beautiful roses and sparkly glitter.  Now I was a bit lazy with the baking over the weekend (lazy might be the wrong word, I was pretty tired meaning all imagination went out the window) so baked the same cupcakes I tried out a few weeks ago so will just post a link to the recipe with some new photos.  I also made the 1st recipe I posted on the blog, an easy peasy Pavlova(meringue), so again will just post a link to the recipe with the addition of some photos taken before it was devoured.  Enjoy!

Chocolate Cupcakes with Chocolate Frosting
http://likemamusedtobake.blogspot.com/2010/02/where-have-all-fairy-cakes-gone.html

Wafer roses and edible glitter to decorate from Avoca

Pavlova(Meringue)
http://likemamusedtobake.blogspot.com/2009/09/old-faithful.html

Served with whipped cream and strawberries

Walking

Hi all,

I have Xbox4NappyRash on my blog list and read his updates as they come through.  Now his last two posts have managed to reduce me to tears, the bugger, but both for very different reasons.  I am not about to start bombarding the blog with posts about charitable causes, I think we all get enough of this on Facebook, but this one really made me think.  I have not experienced this kind of loss and I hope that I never do and that none of my loved ones are unfortunate enough to do so either.  He is taking part in a walk in July to raise funds for the Joseph Salmon Trust which helps families who have lost a child.  Please post this link on your blog, twitter or facebook pages if you would like to help raise awareness for this campaign.  You can read more here  http://xbox4nappyrash.blogspot.com/2010/04/walking.html