I wandered, lonely as a cloud

Today's bake is the child of boredom.

Today was my first day of properly feeling 'unemployed', rather than feeling like a housewife, and this is certainly symptomatic of mind not ruling over matter.

Last night, hubby and I had some wonderful friends over, and they enjoyed the cardamom meringues (huzzah!). I had some rose water kicking about (as one does, darling) so lightly whisked it into some double-cream, so it bubbled but didn't thicken. Hubby and I forgot to take the blackforest fruits out of the freezer until about an hour before our friends were arriving, so with all the dalliance he could muster, hubby recommended serving the meringues with an improvised compot.

I left hubby to his heroic dinner-saving quest he found himself upon.

Last night's dinner meant the house was cleaned, and the kitchen is in a pretty good state. With nothing to clean, and having visited numerous employment agencies, I returned home. Tired, hungry, I soon saw myself stumbling into the slough of despond. Thus, the banana and walnut loaf was born:

I didn't like it very much.

Meringue Mastery...muwahaha..hahaha...


Today's attempt at beginners culinary conquest was cardamom meringues. So far I have only made sloppy-crispy sweet omelettes. Although unique, I don't think most people would order one in a patisserie.

Determined to master the meringue, having friends over for dinner tomorrow night was the perfect excuse to get my bake on.

I followed a recipe on the BBC website (if you type in cardamom meringue on google, it comes up), but found I had to use my knowledge ascertained through practice and other websites. Delia is pretty insistent that you whisk meringue slowly to get the stiff peaks (and I'm sure she also insists that you get the giggling out of your system sooner rather than later too..). I used an electric whisk, which was a gift from an ex-flat mate who I used to flutter eyelashes and ask to do all my whisking for me...I kept the whisk on the lowest setting, gently moving it around the bowl.

Now, apparently the sugar stabilises the mix, so I decided not too get to upset when my egg whites weren't very stiff. Through the fear and doubt, I soldiered on, slowly adding the sugar (yes, SLOWLY, as Lady Delia insists), and lo! Hark! Hwaet! The mixture stabilized! ('Hwaet' is the Middle English equivalent for 'Yo', as on 'Yo, check 'dis out', honestly). It wasn't what I personally would call stable, but I guess in baking-terms it is.

Anyway, I folded in the cardamom seeds using a spatula, unelegently stuffed the mixture into a piping bag, and piped away...

I've learnt I'm quite tenacious...and impatient...and frankly quite disobedient...all of which are bad qualities for baking.

If the recipe says leave alone for an hour. LEAVE IT ALONE WOMAN is what I had to tell myself every time I was tempted to peek into the oven...I did as I was told, for once. Et voi la:

I'm planning to serve these pretentious delights with blackforest fruits, fresh mint, and soya cream.

TODAY'S LESSON: Do are you're told! You can bargain about oven temperature etc, but generally (and honestly) have faith in the culinary champions. They teach us for a reason.

Pastry Danger

It's 9:41am, and I've made my first attempt at pastry. 

I've never made it before, and I've never seen my mum make it either. Being of continental heritage, good ol' English pastry isn't something my family would cook, aside from puff pastry for strudel (which we would buy pre-made anyway). My hubby is an English village boy (secretly wishing he was Hugh Grant) so pastry has had a frequent appearance in his growing-up (and growing-out). 

But, there is danger afoot...

The mother-in-law is a bad-ass cook. My mother-in-law was the person to introduce me to quiche, as she made a spectacular gluten and dairy-free quiche. I cower in her footsteps.

One of my bridesmaids gave me the advice before our wedding to never try and cook his favourite meal. Thankfully the beef wellington is far beyond me at this moment in time.

                                                ..................................................................

I cooked the quiche, but the middle didn't set properly, and I'm not really sure why. I'll have to try again (huzzah!).

At first I wasn't overly happy about the pastry and the shape in the dish, so after leaving it for a few hours, I decided to roll it out again. I'm glad I did, but I made the mistake of cutting it before cooking it. My husband doesn't seem to believe me that pastry shrinks, but this batch certainly did.
And baking beans are not pointless, I promise you.


Bread
Feeling rather unwell on Saturday, I decided to try and make gluten and lacto-fee bread as I was grossly disappointed by the bread-machine effort.

The chief problem was the lack of warm space to leave the dough to prove. I plugged in an oil heater, but realised I would either burn the house down, or achieve nothing and waste electricity.

Despondantly,  I left the bowl of dough on the table, and went back to watching a marathon of Location, Location, Location (I was feeling unwell!!).

Having ignored the dough for two hours, I re-visited the bowl only to find it had risen, though not doubled. I then thought I may as well cook it, and see what happens.

I cooked it. I saw what happened:

All I will say is you really never know until you try.

I've learnt my biggest issue with baking (and cooking generally) is confidence. I now would even say I "love" baking, but only on my own. One of my real dreams is to be baking cakes with our children, if/when we are blessed with them. It's worth learning to bake just for that alone.

TODAY'S LESSON: Try. 

An ominous sigh from the wind, and my husband left our hobbit-hole flat.

A British day - gloriously rainy, windy - reassures me that I am indeed not so hapless that I might spend my morning sipping coffee in my dressing-gown, preparing myself for the jobs of the day.

As a young wife without a paid job, the prospect of 'housewife' is daunting. It occurred to me that it seems only culturally acceptable if your husband is earning a handsome sum that you are permitted to identify yourself as a housewife. Otherwise you're just unemployed and a work-a-phobe.

I beg to differ.

I decided that in order to honor the work my husband does, I would work hard at home; until my employment situation would change, this would be my job.

It was with this in mind that I realised I had many battles up ahead:
I am a hopeless cook - how will I feed him up good-and-proper if I don't learn and practice?!
We have wedding 'thank you' cards to make and write - he hates craft and long messages!
Shirts, boxers, and socks need washing for him to go to work clean!

I don't say this to silence us women into submission and imprison us within our kitchens, but to encourage other women (and men) to see that we do have a vital role to play within our relationships and marriages. For some this role involves working outside the home, for others this role involves ruling as queen of the castle. I believe that a real queen serves her people, and for me, part of my royal duty is to embark upon missions of culinary conquest. (I'm really not lying when I said I'm a terrible cook).

To complicate matters, I am both gluten and dairy intolerant. My hubby is a savvy cook, but I'm choosing to take up arms and fight on the feasting front for him, as he works away outside the home.

I aslo believe that daily encouragement is crucial, whether to people known or unknown.

It is with that in mind that this blog begins, and I hope to share the lessons and encouragements with you.