Herman

This week I have been looking after a German friendship cake called Herman. (Wiki tells me it is also known as Amish Friendship Bread.) The gist is you get given some mixture and instructions, and when the time comes your separate off more mixture and give it to friends and on it goes in a lovely vicious cycle. It’s the cake version of a chain letter and it comes with its own levels of guilt; guilt about keeping it alive, guilt about not enjoying the process as much as you should when a loved one has given it to you. It’s possible I took this whole thing far too seriously.

My mum gave me Herman when she was visiting last week. I can totally understand why she did. She’d made it and liked the cake, she knows I like baking, why wouldn’t I like this? And initially I did. I dutifully put Herman in my most favourite (and only) mixing bowl. I set him on my work top and covered him in a tea towel and for the next ten days fed him and stirred him and did not put him in the fridge because allegedly this means DEATH to Herman. And I only screamed a little when I came home from work one day to find he’d exploded all over my worktop/cooker. Seriously, it’s been like looking after a frickin Gremlin.

Yesterday, finally, it was the day to bake. I added the rest of the ingredients, stuck him in the oven, and waited. This is the end result:

Actually, that’s a lie. The end result is in several pieces/crumbs in a tin, since Herman saw fit to dissolve the moment I tried to get him out of the tin. Clearly I had done something wrong. He tastes ok. Ten days worth of faffing about and cleaning up after him ok? Not really. He smells amazing though and if I ever a) own a house and b) sell said house I will be sure to bake him the day we have viewings, but I am a little disappointed. He could at least have tried to hold his shit together and look presentable, just a little bit.

I handed my extra mixture over to someone at work. Hopefully they will have better luck, but if Herman tries to get in my house again, I’m not home.

(Pea) Pod Person*

Over the last couple of birthdays and Christmas I have accumulated a fair few book tokens. These moved with me in October and lay forgotten in the bottom of a drawer until I discovered them with a cry of glee! But oh, what to spend them on? The number of books I want to read made the choice too overwhelming, so again the tokens went unused, this time sitting in my purse. And then I realised I didn’t have to spend them on fiction, I could get a cookbook. So I bought Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s River Cottage Veg Everyday.

Cue the stunned silence from anyone who knows me.

Yes, it’s a cookbook that focuses on vegetables. And I bought it. And there’s stuff in it I would like to eat. In fact, I have already made one recipe and it was delicious. I understand the surprise. I am the ‘white food girl’ after all. Even the director of the company I work for, who is based in the States, knows I only eat white food. Only I don’t do that any more. OK, I am still fond of potatoes and chicken and cheese and cauliflower and other pale food combos, but I am trying to eat more healthily and try new things. This all started with the humble cherry tomato. I can’t tell you how much I used to hate tomatoes. I’d eat tomato flavoured things (sauce, soup) but anything that resembled a tomato could frankly bog off as far as I was concerned. I’d even pick the sliced ones off my margarita pizza. Eww. And then I ate a cherry tomato (I do not remember how this came about) and fell in love and now can’t get enough of them. And it seems since then my previously fussy palate has become adventurous and keen to expand its repertoire. Also known as eating things normal people like.

The first thing I made from the book wasn’t amazingly adventurous, I will admit, but I am building up to lentils and polenta. It’s baby steps. But I made a tomato and mozzarella tart. With SALAD! I don’t do salad. It always seemed pointless to me. But then in would, since I didn’t eat anything that went into it. My salad had cucumber in it, another previously detested food. And don’t get me started on the whole leaf thing…I really don’t know what’s happening to me. But that’s ok, long may it last.

 

*Actually I hate peas. Still.

Fruity

Last week at work, a colleague got sent a box from graze.com. It basically works like lovefilm, in that boxes of fruit and nibbles come to you through the post. There were vouchers for other people to try it for free (excellent marketing ploy) so I took one and had a go. I don’t eat nearly enough fruit and good stuff, and though I could easily go out and buy some, it’s not nearly as exciting as a box rocking up at your desk.

My box came yesterday. You can choose from the fruit box or nibbles, I went with fruit because a lot of the others have nuts in (they don’t cater to people who can’t eat nuts as yet, but I wanted a go anyway). I got one tray of fresh cut orange, and two smaller ones of nibbles. They are ‘blueberry fruit cake’ (white chocolate covered blueberries, jumbo raisins and green raisins – I don’t do raisins, but have found the green ones to be acceptable), and ‘yin & yang’ (almonds, dark chocolate buttons, more bloody jumbo raisins and cherries – I’ll mainly be interested in the chocolate in that one I’m afraid).

You can set up preferences online and say whether you love things, like them, are happy to try or want to bin them (so they are never sent). Alas, with my tastes I was binning a lot, and a box popped up and told me off, so I rethought it and said I would try stuff. That seems sensible. I am very much enjoying the blueberries, but that is probably because you can only taste the white chocolate.

Anyway, the next box is half price so I will get another one on Thursday (you can choose when you want them) and then I’ll decide whether I’ll keep up with it. It’s £2.99 per box and that includes postage. If anyone reading (in the UK) would like a free go you can go to the website and on the right where it says ‘Promotion or Gift code?’ click and put in D1ZLLK2 and voila! Free snacks. A head’s up though, you do have to put in card details when you sign up, even for the free one, but you can then cancel at any time.

And I’m done plugging random internet things now.

Home, Home on the Range

Last week I went home to Yorkshire to see my Mum (and briefly saw my brother for about three seconds. Charming.) so had a nice long weekend with extra days in bed. This came in useful as I had yet another damn cold. It’s like my body knows when I’m going home and thinks ‘Aha! Perfect time to be poorly!’ Stupid thing. Mum had made rock cakes though, which is pretty impressive when you consider how crap she is at baking (oh look, I had a cold then too). But they were really good! And she made ones without raisins in, just for me. I have the recipe and will have a go at making them too. If they are Mum-proof I should be ok.

On Monday I went to Cheer Fit again, and it was still excellent fun. We practised the C’est La Vie cheer again, and started a new one to Alexandra Burke’s Broken Heels song. I don’t really like her or that song, but it went well enough with the moves.

And while I’m here and instead of giving it its own post, I have another book fail. I thought I’d carry on with it for a bit, but I just can’t be bothered and I want to read the new Harper Connelly anyway. So I am giving up on Deja Dead by Kathy Reichs. When I was home I watched an episode of Bones, and it was quite entertaining (although I avoid it as Emily Deschanel annoys me for some reason), so I thought I’d try the books. Mum had the first one, and I liked the idea of having a new series to be getting on with. But I don’t like it. I am bored. The writing makes me want to skim and the main character doesn’t interest me. There’s a lot of intense description about the state of the bodies, and while usually I have no problem with that kind of thing, this hasn’t sat well with me. I don’t want to pick it up again when I have time, so I think it’s better to move on.

Nearly the weekend!!

Cake or Death…Death? Really?

A lot of things happen to you as you get older, physically speaking. The body that you think you know changes. This is to be expected. There’ll be lines where there weren’t before, dreaded crow’s feet (still holding those ones at bay, touch wood) grey hair (not so lucky on that front damn it) and creaky joints. I get that. We put our bodies through a lot of crap, so of course at some point they’re going to rebel and mock any thoughts you had about being in control of this thing you inhabit.

What I didn’t really expect was that my tastes would change. More specifically my tastebuds. Ignoring my often joked about penchant for white food, I am pretty picky when it comes to what I eat. Everyone knows this. It’s annoying, it annoys me, it annoys those who have to cook for me and my awkward tastes. But lately I’ve found myself liking things I didn’t before. Certain vegetables are more appealing (although carrots and peas and sweetcorn I will never understand), but more than that I seem willing to try stuff I wouldn’t before. Maybe I’m less stubborn? No…probably not.

Learning to like other foods I get, starting to dislike foods you once loved I don’t. This is all ridiculously long preamble to my confession: I am going off cake. I know! What the hell? It’s cake. Who doesn’t like cake? OK, I still like it some, but where as before I could eat shedloads of it, now I find myself struggling to get through half a slice. I no longer feel the need to have dessert. Sweet things just seem overpowering, they’re too sweet for me to enjoy. It may be down to having cake all the time at work, for people’s birthdays or whenever we feel suitably depressed about winter/conferences. Maybe it’s just overkill.

This happened to me with ice cream too. When I was a kid I would eat bowls and bowls of the stuff, with chocolate or strawberry sauce squeezed on top. I’d also eat bowls of sherbet (known to me then as kali [said as kaylie]) and I do wonder how I’ve kept my own teeth. Then it seemed that all of a sudden I didn’t want it any more. Is that just growing up?

There’s not really much point to this post, since I don’t know why my sweet tooth is disappearing. I’m hoping I don’t suddenly go off biscuits though. Because what is a cup of tea without a biscuit? That’s a horrifying thought you know.

It’s Official

I’m not totally sure how I feel about being a billboard for Tesco, but seeing as it’s for a good cause I guess it doesn’t matter.

I went for a run this evening and do seem to be running further and walking less (except when a fly decided to hit me dead in the eyeball, that kinda knocked me off my stride). I do think I need to add some more time/distance to my running, and push myself a bit harder, loathe as I am to admit that. My calf and shin hurt quite a lot though, which I could do without.

Totally unrelated: I just made the best poached egg on toast ever. *Takes a bow*

R’uh R’oh

It’s such a good thing I’m running now:

These are not going to last long. Mmmm nom nom.

Ice Ice Baby

I didn’t go to the cinema on Friday night as I had felt very ill all day, sort of headachey and faint and weak, kind of like I do in the aftermath of a migraine, only I hadn’t had a migraine. So I went home to bed instead. Humph. I have been feeling a lot better and like I am (touch wood) now over my stupid cold. Thank God. That has to be the longest cold I have ever had. Although I do still have lovely growths on my tonsils that are annoying but not causing me pain. I’m hoping they will go away soon too.

Today I went ice skating at the O2. It’s an Ice Disco. Oooh. I got all kitted up with my gloves and scarf and extra thick socks. (Though it was really hot and I ended up stripping off all the extra layers anyway.) And you know what? I didn’t fall down once! Not once! (I might have considered it had any of the Ice Marshalls been cute, but sadly no.) I mean, I had a couple of close calls, mostly because kids would veer in front of me with no warning and I’d have to change course. I did still end up being in pain though. It is most likely because I never wear heels and so my feet are very flat and not at all used to having to be forced into an arch for extended periods of time. Oh. My. God. It was so bloody painful. It was like having continuous cramp in my arches. I had to keep stopping because I just could not go on (so dramatic). Sigh. But it was grand and I didn’t spend all my time clutching the side with all my might. I went in the middle. Yay me.

There was also the usual kid (rather rotund) who decided he MUST skate in the middle, even though he could barely stand. So he fell so much that the Ice Marshall was basically following him around and the last time I saw him he was being led off the ice in tears.

Afterwards we went to Frankie & Benny’s for something to eat and I stuffed my face on Brownies and ice-cream. Yummy. And now I am at home and quite tired so I am going to watch The Long Way Down (Mmmm Ewan) and have a cup of tea and pretend I don’t have to get up and go to work in the morning.

Saturday

Last night I went out for Rob’s birthday dinner. We went to the Big Easy again in Chelsea. I went to see Peps first as I has been instructed to look nice and that sort of thing always sets me into a bit of panic. I own about two ‘nice’ tops, both of which are several years old and have been worn once. Plus she said she’d do my make-up as we had to make an effort and, well, act grown up. Plus there might have been boys there. Damn. No amount of make-up is going to make me feel like a grown up. However, she did make me look very nice. Unfortunately I still didn’t feel very pretty seeing as I have two huge red spots on my chin.

(Sidebar: Am I ever going to get to an age where I don’t have spots anymore? You go around for, what, the first twelve years of you life?, not remotely concerned about hormones or any such nonsense, and barely remembering to wash, and then BAM! It all hits. So am I going to have to worry about spots when I’m 80? Not only will I have wrinkles and grandma chin hair and most likely boils of some sort, I’ll have spots too? Hardly seems fair now does it?)

Anyway, off we went, battling through the damn crowds at Green Park and walking for an age from South Kensington seeing as there were no cabs about. But we made it. I have to say that the service at the Big Easy wasn’t anywhere near as good as last time. I know it was a Saturday night but god we waited ages for our mains. And they were wanting to move us along quickly to free up the table. Dave managed to sweet talk the manager into putting the rugby on (for those in our party who cared about such things), so off went American Football. I have no interest in sports whatsoever. Honestly, I just could not care less. So when the boys came on I went through the line up looking for an attractive man I could root for. (This is how I used to get through the Arsenal matches I was forced to watch. Thierry Henry all the way baby.) The one I picked was vetoed by Peps for being a born again Christian with five kids. So I looked on and, I’m afraid to say, slim pickings on the England side. I figured, let’s have a little look at the French. They may have lost the game but they win in the looks stakes by far. There’s loads of em on that side! I went for Frederic Michalak. Mmmmm. Peps is in love with Sebastian Chabal. I just don’t see it myself…

Apparently it was very nail biting (as demonstrated by Dave) but we won. Yay! And all that jazz. Then the American Football went back on. I’m sorry, but that’s not a sport. It’s barely even a game. I tried twice while in the States to sit through one of those things and barely made it to half time at each. Four hours to play a 90 minute game. And only one guy is allowed to throw? What? And they all troop off and troop on again and play stops every two seconds while they sort themselves out. And some of those players can’t even be called athletes. They’re just big fat blokes. Their sole purpose is to smush the other team’s members. What a skill. Puh. The Americans can keep it thanks.

After that we went into Babushka (everyone sing Kate Bush with me now), which made me feel old. And then I trundled off home at a decent hour but could not get to sleep when my head hit the pillow. Gah! So now am tired and coldy feeling so let’s hope that goes away. Oh, and the chin? Still red and spotty. I am not a teenager damn it!!!

I got ham but I’m not a Hamster

Sunday I went to see some comedy at the Hammersmith Apollo.

I will attempt to say what cause it was about, seeing as I have the literature next to me, but if I get it a bit wrong, well…Russell Brand couldn’t get it either. Though that’s probably not something to be proud of, being like Russell Brand. Ok, so, this was ‘A seriously funny attempt to get the Serious Fraud Office in the dock!’ Right. It’s about Britain’s biggest arms company BAE paying bribes to a Saudi Prince, and the Serious Fraud Office (SFO, which, if I’m honest, sounds like it’s from a comedy sketch all on its own, but what do I know?) started an investigation and then Tony Blair said no, don’t so that, we don’t want to upset the Saudis, and this upset people who actually DO THINGS about injustice and they decided to hold a comedy benefit to raise money to take them to court.

So that’s the background, and I can feel all good about myself for giving money to a good cause but really enjoying myself lots. The line up included:

Simon Amstell – a person I disliked very much whenever I flicked onto Pop World, but which may have been because of my serious dislike for his pal Miquita Oliver and her short skirt shiny tights combo THAT JUST DO NOT SUIT HER!!! And who I have liked since he was on Never Mind the Buzzcocks. He was very funny.

Ed Byrne – Funny but with such a thick Irish accent to begin with I couldn’t totally follow.

Omid Djalli, Robin Ince, Stewart Lee, Mark Steel, a young lass named Josie Long who was pretty good but made me feel nervous for her, Mark Thomas, the genius behind the show and again, chuckles were had.

Russell Brand, who again, I’m not much of a fan of, did have me in stitches, but I just can’t get my head around him. Why does he look like a badly dressed woman? Why does he have such a weird body shape that makes his pecs look like boobs? And those boots, really? Am at a loss. Ooh and Bill Bailey showed up as a surprise, and sang a song like the Killers ‘I got soul but I’m not a soldier’ which explains the title of this post.

And we had someone introducing and I’ve forgotten his name as he was a fill in, and he was Canadian and very nearly almost flashed his penis, I was a bit worried about his trousers for a minute. We did get to see his bum and I’m never totally impressed by comedians who resort to waving their arms around like a lunatic and flashing their bits, but he was all right and I liked his rendition of ‘I’m the only gay eskimo in my tribe.’

Two things annoyed me on my night of fun. Firstly, woman with 6 kids and a huge pram stops the bus just as the traffic lights are turning green. Takes an age to get on, doesn’t have any money on her Oyster card, has to pay cash, gets all her kids settled. The lights turn red, we sit for ages cos it’s road works. Lights turn green, we go round the corner, she lets out a groan. ‘We’ve got on the wrong bus’ (as if her children are somehow complicit in this), stops the bus, gets everyone off eventually. Why does this happen when you’re in a hurry?

Second, I got sat next to a guy at the comedy who was wearing slip on shoes and who liked to slip them off and then put his horrible bare foot dangerously near my leg. God I hate feet and a stranger’s feet even more so. Also he took over the arm rest and put his legs over on MY SIDE! And he kept talking to his mate. People like this should not be allowed out if they don’t know the rules.

Oh! And we went for Thai food, so no one is allowed to call me non-Adventurous ever again. Ner.

Also, I should not watch films like Freedom Writers as it just makes me want to become a teacher at an inner city school who inspires her class, which, let’s face it, would never happen