Birthday cake revenge

Jane Asher and I make cakes. She does it for money, I do it for love.

One of mine: Noddy with acne

One of Jane's

When my 9 year old requested that I go to a shop and buy a 'proper' cake for her birthday this year, I had mixed feelings - and decided to get my own back on her.

I arranged a very last minute Mad Hatter's Tea Party with heart-shaped sandwiches, layered jellies, dormice and cakes. Just as things were starting to get messy, we announced the arrival of The Cake with a great fanfare. The lights were turned off, blinds lowered, eyes covered, and I placed it in front of her: a cake that was an inch in diameter, covered with pink buttercream bearing a single pink heart-shaped candle. As she teetered on the precipice of tears and laughter, I explained that it had shrunk, as things are wont to do in Wonderland. (Luckily, there was a large pink shop-bought cake waiting in the wings.)

Here are some of my past creations:

Nice face, shame about the arms

Decorated by a 5 year old (Christmas decorations in May!)
Cake frills cover a multitude of sins - and mean you don't have to bother icing the sides

Hummingbird Bakery's dulce de leche cupcakes which provoked the following outburst:
"I don't like cakes, I don't like icing, and I certainly don't like fairies"!

Be careful what you wish for!

I was brought up by a very superstitious grandmother and a very Catholic mother. This combination of dogma and irrational belief meant that my childhood was spent not just trying to remember the difference between a mortal and a venial sin, but terrified of what might happen if I looked at a new moon through glass, put new shoes on a table, or didn't say hello to a solitary magpie. It might explain why I spent a lot of time sitting on the floor in the small space behind my bedroom door reading books.

On the up-side, my grandmother was very insistent that we made a wish every time we ate a food for the first time in its season. So lately I've been wishing up a storm, what with asparagus, strawberries, new potatoes and - today - rhubarb. I love rhubarb, and although I lack the commitment to be a good gardener, I have inherited a flourishing rhubarb patch which thrives on utter neglect at the bottom of the garden amongst a tangle of brambles.

So with great excitement (and a bowlful of the stuff in front of me as I write), I bring you my favourite sweet thing - a moist and fragrant rhubarb & orange cake - and the chance to make a wish.

Rhubarb, rhubarb

Rhubarb and Orange cake

Cake:

350g rhubarb, cut into chunks

200g golden caster sugar

grated zest and juice of half an orange

140g butter, softened

2 eggs, beaten

½ teaspoon baking powder

85g self-raising flour

100g ground almonds

Topping:

25g butter

25g light muscovado sugar

grated zest of half an orange

50g slivered almonds (I often leave them out)

Mix the rhubarb with 50g of the caster sugar and the orange zest, then set it aside for an hour, giving it a stir or two. Pre-heat the oven to 190/gas 5 and grease and line a 23cm loose-bottomed cake tin. Cream the butter and remaining 150g sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, baking powder, flour, ground almonds and orange juice and beat gently until smooth. Turn into the tin and level with a spoon. Drain the rhubarb and spoon the chunks over the cake. Bake for 25 minutes. Meanwhile, make the topping by melting the butter and stirring in the sugar, zest and almonds. Take the cake out of the oven, reduce the temperature to 180/gas 4, sprinkle the topping over it and quickly replace it in the oven for another 15-20 minutes until firm in the centre. Cool in the tin for 20 minutes or so before transferring to a rack. Dust with icing sugar and serve warm or cool with thick cream.

The recipe was snipped out of a Good Food magazine some years ago. 

Turning over a new (lettuce) leaf

I've been having feelings of slight despair every time I look in the fridge. It's the same kind of feeling I get when I open my wardrobe. I will make a decent dish out of what's there/will be able to dress myself without causing looks of alarm from passers-by, but really I want to chuck everything out and start again. I could solve the wardrobe problem with a personal shopper, but does anyone offer a personal shopping service for fridges?

Thinks: The fridge PS could take into account your body shape and decide to stock you up with full-fat or low-fat yogurts; she could update your classics with a new spicy chorizo or a flavoured houmous; she could suggest accessorising with some coloured plastic storage boxes; or she could even lead you towards a whole new line of fridge magnets.

But then something magical happened; the sun came out. Now I can strip out all the dark coloured moth-eaten stuff and replace it with white linen, and throw away that old shrink-wrapped swede and buy salad leaves! I lost no time in making Salad Niçoise.

Salad Niçoise with hot smoked salmon

1 egg per person, lightly hardboiled
lettuce
green beans, cooked
tomatoes
black olives
hot smoked salmon (I used a 150g pack for 2 people)
new potatoes

Cut the potatoes into smallish chunks and cook them in a pan of water with a pinch of salt. Add the eggs to the pan just as the water comes up to the boil and keep them there until the potatoes are done. Drain, and place the eggs into cold water for a few minutes, before peeling and quartering them. Meanwhile, assemble the salad by piling it all artfully on a large platter, finishing with the eggs and flaked salmon. I like to serve it undressed (it, not me) as it looks prettier that way (I don't). Serve with a dressing of your choice or this one:

Simple salad dressing

2 teaspoons runny honey
half a teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
6 tablespoons olive oil
a generous pinch of salt

Place everything in a screw-top jar and shake vigorously.

Old skool

Love her or loathe her, Maggie did me a big favour. I was often milk monitor in my early days at school, which involved sticking straws through the foil tops of mini bottles of thick, cheesy milk which had been sitting in the playground all morning. In a bid to save the country money she scrapped the milk and became known as 'Maggie Thatcher, milk snatcher'. Hooray!

Milk wasn't the only vile thing we had to drink at school. Our lunch was served with water in coloured aluminium jugs (and matching tumblers) which tasted like it had been scooped out of a fish pond and was always slightly warmer than room temperature. The food wasn't bad though. I have to admit to being partial to the odd spam fritter with an ice cream scoop of mashed potato, and I really loved the spongey puddings and coloured custard. 

Here's one I made earlier...

Jam and Coconut Sponge with pink custard

125g margarine (for an authentic 1970's flavour)

125g caster sugar

2 eggs, beaten

125g self raising flour

½teaspoon baking powder

a few drops of vanilla essence

a splosh of milk

raspberry jam

dessicated coconut

Pre-heat the oven to 180/gas 4. Cream together the marg and sugar until pale and fluffy, then add eggs a little at a time. Mix in the milk and vanilla, then fold in the flour and baking powder. Pour into a lined tin measuring 18x20 cm and bake for about 20 minutes until risen and golden. When cool, spread liberally with raspberry jam and a  sprinkling of coconut. Serve with Ambrosia pink custard (in the little tubs) which has a very authentic taste.

Definitely the best days of our lives!

Chocolate chip shortbread

It's going to be a lovely day tomorrow. Really. So do your time in the kitchen today and be ready to get outdoors when the sun starts shining.

Whatever the weather, these chocolate chip shortbread rounds will not disappoint. Crisp, crunchy, buttery shortbread with chunks of dark and white chocolate (such as left-over Easter eggs). You could even go wild and add a handful of nuts.

Just add tea

Chocolate chip shortbread

225g butter

100g caster sugar

¼ teaspoon salt (if you're using unsalted butter; a generous pinch if not)

225g plain flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

125g chocolate (any type), chopped

Pre-heat oven to 150/gas 2. Cream the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy. Add the flour, baking powder and chocolate and stir to form a stiff dough. Roll into walnut-sized rounds, flatten each one slightly and place on a baking tray at least 3cm apart. Bake for approximately 20 minutes until light golden brown. Remove from baking tray and cool on a rack.

The trouble with holidays

For me, a real holiday is one where the only thought I have to give food is what to order from the menu. No planning, no cooking, and no clearing up. But I do have one major area of disquiet that chips away at my unfettered enjoyment - the children's food choices. Given free rein at the buffet or menu they choose stuff that makes me cringe. Sometimes it's the combination, sometimes it's the bald lack of respect for their own bowel function. On a trip to France last year Child 1 proudly chose an "all-mollusc meal" (squid followed by snails).

Returning home from holiday recently, I was obsessed with redressing the nutritional balance. I cooked pasta sauce full of tomato seeds and red pepper skins, muffins with blueberries and lemon, and - today - sweetcorn fritters. They went down very well with a simple prawn and avocado salad and a dollop of sweet chilli sauce. Super-quick and delicious for all ages.

Sweetcorn fritters and prawn & avocado salad

Sweetcorn fritters

2 eggs

5 tablespoons milk

knob of melted butter

85g plain flour

½ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

330g can sweetcorn drained (I used 250g frozen sweetcorn, cooked for a couple of minutes)

a couple of finely sliced spring onions

Whisk the eggs, milk and melted butter together. Add the flour, salt and baking powder and whisk a bit more til smooth. Tip in the sweetcorn and spring onions and mix. Shallow fry large spoonfuls in hot oil for 1-2 minutes each side until golden brown. Drain on kitchen paper and keep them warm in the oven while you cook the rest. This made 10.

Prawn and avocado salad

An avocado

A couple of handfuls of cooked prawns

A squeeze of lime (optional)

2 teaspoons dark soy sauce

2 teaspoons cold water

½ teaspoon caster sugar

a few drops of sesame oil

Cut the avocado into chunks and sprinkle over a little lime juice. Mix together the soy sauce, water, sugar and oil and pour it over the avocado and prawns. Serve with a few shredded mint or whole coriander leaves. Serves 2

Don't put all your eggs in one basket

It should have been my best Easter ever: I was 7 and had been given a load of Easter eggs. I piled them up carefully, waiting to be given the nod to start chomping through them (or waiting until no-one was looking). After an interminable church service and lunch, my step-father announced that we were going for a drive. That's what you did on Sunday afternoons in the 1970's. I hated it, and often ended up throwing up in a National Trust car park. I don't know where we went that afternoon, but I was on a promise - no complaining and I could start on the chocolate when we got home. I remember rushing indoors to grab the biggest egg, but the stash had gone and the carpet was strewn with bits of cardboard and foil... the dog had got there before me. There wasn't anything left. I was bitterly disappointed, but deep down I couldn't begrudge her as she had been eating all my unwanted vegetables (fed surreptitiously under the table at mealtimes) for months.

I have been making up for it ever since.

Happy Easter!