Tag: cake

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Emergency Cake

Sometimes, when you’ve lived through two successive storms and the wind is getting up for a third wave, there is a need for Emergency Cake.

Today was such a day. As the wind roared around the walls of the caravan and the rain lashed at the windows, I looked outside and declared the weather so foul that it qualified as an Emergency Cake Day.

The key was not to go out to get any ingredients. Far too horrid out there. I would have been swept into a ditch in an instant. Not a good way to go.

So it was rather lucky that I just happened to have a jar of cherry jam and a small punnet of fresh cherries in the fridge, and some cream. I have no idea how that happened. The Seventies were calling me.

As regular readers will know, the oven in the caravan is tiny. One cake in my one square baking tin fills the whole cooking space. It’s a testament to how badly I wanted this that I was prepared to prepare and bake the cake twice (in the same tin) and sandwich them together stickily and unctuously with jam, kirsch, fresh cherries and cream.

And so, dear reader, two hours later both layers were baked. The filling was spread onto the base layer. The top layer was manoeuvred into place. There was much chocolate grating to hide the fissures.

No fancy piping gear here, I’m afraid. This is the Seventies at its most fabulously rustic in cake form.

Black Forest gateaux

Any locals fancying a slice had better battle their way to the top of our rain-lashed hill before it all disappears. A pot of tea and an inelegant, squidgy slice of lusciousness awaits.

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Caravan food

The caravan has a tiny kitchen, with three working gas burners and a very small electric oven. It’s lack of storage space has meant that we have no room for electrical appliances like mixers or blenders, making everything a manual process when it comes to food preparation . So, meals have to be simple.

But that doesn’t mean that they can’t be good. We’re working hard on the house and croft, and we need sustenance. An army marches on its stomach!

I’ve looked back at some of the meals that we’ve produced in the caravan with our one baking tin and I’m pleased to see that we’ve actually managed OK.

The eagle-eyed amongst you will notice that we seem to be heavy on the sweet treats! No apologies for that. It’s true to say that this build is being fuelled by cake…

Bakewell tart
Sourdough from the Mallaig bakery with homemade houmous
Strawberry slab cake
Lunch butties with crispy chicken
Turkish bean salad
Chocolate cake
Teatime flapjacks
Cheese and chive scones
Local rope grown mussels
Lentil, garlic & veg soup
Pear pancakes with Greek Yoghurt & Honey
Soy marinated sesame salmon
Cranachan
Lentil dhal
Baklava
Thai salmon ready for baking
Local langoustines
Breakfast of champions
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The barter economy

There’s something very nourishing about an exchange that doesn’t involve money and something very warming about the generosity of a local community.

Here on the island, our neighbours are generous and giving. We’ve received gifts of home made oatcakes, snowdrops, daffodil bulbs, chocolate, locally made candles, wine and other small gifts since we arrived. It’s touching and heartwarming whenever this happens.

Lockdown here can be difficult for people, especially when shopping involves icy roads and long distances, so I often text a few neighbours before we set out for the supermarket to check whether we can pick anything up for them.

On the last occasion we picked up a few low value items for a neighbour and were given a bottle of wine in exchange! Such a lovely gesture.

Today, friends from a few villages away have dropped off (socially distanced) a homemade curry in a huge le crueset pot, a delicious looking Murghi, and as I couldn’t have them leave empty handed, I baked them a lemon drizzle cake.

The ties of community are strong here. Even whist we are all apart, generosity thrives. I love that.

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Slow days

Everything has dipped this week. I’ve noticed both husband and I gradually losing energy and becoming slower and more reluctant to do things.

I don’t know if it’s the short, cold days, the effect of this prolonged lockdown, or a combination of both, but we are drooping a bit.

Problems with the build and trying to find ways to correct the problems (thank you builders), the prospect of further supply delays and scarcity of materials, and costs going up steeply with new import taxes (thank you Brexit) have probably contributed to our general malaise and lack of energy.

We will get through this. It’s just a few slow days.

All I can do is keep morale up as much as I can for both of us.

I know that pear pancakes and lemon drizzle cake with tea later in the day won’t solve anything, but they’re sweet and comforting and do make us feel a little better.

So that’s what we’ve been doing this week. In between jobs we wrap up in blankets, drink tea and eat cake.

My way of getting through the dark days.

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Strawberry Cake

We love to celebrate the abundance of strawberries in season by enjoying them in as many ways as possible.

You can’t beat a simple bowlful of them, freshly washed and eaten with fingers. Their sweetness is delicious.

But another way to enjoy them, if you’re so inclined, is to make strawberry cake.

Strawberries tend to cook down to nothing in a cake, leaving only a stain of sweet, pink density which has always seemed vaguely disappointing.

But this cake cheats and adds extra strawberries pressed into the warm surface at the end so that you can enjoy the fullness of the fruit as well as the dense strawberry fudginess of the cake.

Just in case this wasn’t enough strawberryness, I gently simmer more strawberries into a loose compote and spoon this over the slices on each plate, so that what you get is a luscious, swooning, full-on strawberry sensation in each mouthful.

Because summer isn’t here for long and strawberries need to be celebrated.