Stay at home dad

Cakes

Worried I am getting into this whole parenting thing too deeply. After all I'm still a man and need to retain some male traits and characteristics. Actually - don't worry too much I'm drinking a cold beer as I type this and I have just stopped scratching my undercarriage - so I think we're ok !

You see I found myself baking cakes on Thursday night for the year R cake sale which took place yesterday. Ok, Ok I did cheat a little bit as I used one of those cup cake mix jobbies, but it did involve real cooking and hot ovens, an egg or two and even white chocolate 'piping'. La-di-dah! I have to admit that the end result did look a bit amateur and the icing was sort of all over each paper cup thing but they certainly did look homemade.

I sauntered casually over to the school to see how the cake sale was going and f**k me sideways ALL of the choccy cup cakes had been sold, there was loads of other stuff still for sale but my little beauties had sold out like proverbial hot cakes (well actually just like hot cakes, they weren't proverbial).

I haven't felt that proud since I was called up in assembly aged 7 to collect my BAGA 5 award (if you have to ask you're too young or, come to think of it, too old).

So with a swelling of pride in my chest I strutted around all day finally picking up LP from a friends house where, lo and behold, LP's friend's mum had only gone and bought some of my cup cakes..! The assorted kids round her house gave them a huge thumbs up too.

Today cup cakes, tommorrow the world or battenburg cake (I haven't decided).

A brilliant round off to a successful day.

The REAL family cook book - PART 1

As promised, here is my short attempt to capture the essence of the total 'antithesis' of 'Nigella orgasms over cous cous' or 'Jamie erupts over his organic veg' (or is that meat and two veg..)

BREAKFAST

Firstly, try and contain your children and/or strap them into a seat or push chair before searching for the necessary orgasmic ingredients.

Secondly, ban all electronic devices from husbands/wives/friends or children, particularly crackberries or nintendo DS.

Next assemble your ingredients. You will need the following:

1. Bowls x number of those eating

2. spoons x number of those eating

3. Chairs x number of those eating

4. Box of cereal ...and freshly slice kumquat (only joking)

5. Milk - NB check carefully it has not curdled, a little bit of creamy deposits in your tea or cereal are acceptable, cottage cheese consistency is not.

6. Digital Radio tuned to either Radio 5 LIve or Radio 4 (no other channels allowed PARTICULARLY HEART)

7. Depending on age of children and competence of adults, either a.) allow child to pour own cereal or b.) pour child/useless adult the amount of sugary crap cereal you want them to consume to ensure you do not get reported to the NSPCC for child neglect or cruelty.

8.) Pour milk

9.) Make yourself a cup of tea. If you are feeling very cosmopolitan (or gay) make a cup of earl grey or even better Redbush / roibush, whatever, the less caffeine the gay-er.

10.) Sit back and bask in the smug glory of what an amazing domestic god/dess (delete as appropriate) you are.

11.) Make yourself a piece of toast (*** NB !! check the bread is not mouldy before placing in the Dualit* (*if you don't know what I mean darling there really isn't any hope)!!**)

12.) Check on progress of coco pops eating (DAMN! did I say coco pops??? I meant organic goji berry museli with added omega 3's and almonds (that's right folks, almonds can cure depression!)) and tear of required number of sheets of kitchen roll to mop up spillages.

13.) Unleash children /adults and  order them to go upstairs and get dressed and do their teeth.

14.) Try and figure out how you are going to get ready to take child/ren to school in time as it is now 8:25 and you still haven't shaved... ( that is if you are female of course, males can go to work and or take children to school with stubble on the chin... shame women cannot do same with stubble on legs).

15.)  Leave washing / clearing up for the TV crew and 'runners' to sort out as you sashay out smiling with the smug contentment of being a celeb chef/ wife of chef or simply some one who pretends that every meal time is sexy, earthy and goddamit - fun !

Next time : LUNCH

"Daaaarling... I am just popping out to source some large juicy squash.... GRRRRR...!"

Celebrity chefs and their chuffing cookbooks

This is a bit of a rant and a bit of dig at those glossy goddamn cook books where the likes of Nigella 'Yes I have put on weight' Lawson and Tana 'Gordon didn't help me with the recipes' Ramsay look glamorous and happy and relaxed whilst preparing, cooking and feeding their happy shiny children and wonderfully attentive husbands.... I mean just look at the expressions on their faces:

I tell you that is NOT the sort of look I normally see in the kitchen from Mrs.SAHD, the bedroom: maybe.. as I make the naked dash to get under the quilt (I wish........) but certainly not in the kitchen. And if I was ever to pull such a face to Mrs.Sahd whilst in the kitchen she would give me a right hook and send me back to work. I think they call that look 'smug' with a capital 'S'.

For example / here is a real-life example of how total bollux the whole idea is that people actually look like that in their (spotless) kitchens:

SCENE: KITCHEN

TIME: 7:55 am

I was trying desperately to listen to Nicky 'edgy' Campbell on Radio Bloke (R5L) talking to some American banking expert about the whole Northern Rock/Government loan issue and time is running out before Kid A has to be fed, pack lunch made, dressed and out of the house by 8:50... when I get double whammy with little prince demanding something to drink, NOT the apple juice I had just poured and Mrs.SAHD is questioning me about some social occasion or other in terms of times and dates... So I admit I cannot multi-task but all this actually does is stress me out.

And all I was TRYING to do was make the frigging porridge and with all this going on and, listen, this was only PORRIDGE ! Not Moroccan inspired chick pea and lamb tabouleh with fresh mint and bulgar wheat freshly cracked by the buttocks of an organic tribe high up in the Atlas mountains (ferrrgodsake).

This evening it was slightly better because I managed to captivate LP's attention with the dark arts contained on the cartoon network whilst preparing tonights amazing family meal which merges eastern cuisine with mediterranean colour... BLEURRGGHHH...

Christ knows what we'd eat if we ever had any more children. Actually I have decided this topic needs more input so next post I shall produce my own realistic version of the 'real' family cook book.

Rant over.

For now.

Sloe Gin

This is Prunus Spinosa  or the 'Blackthorn' bush:

I've been developing my Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall persona: what with the grape picking last week and now this.

Today, I could be mostly found either:

1.) Driving around very slowly in the country lanes near Blogley looking for Prunus Spinosa; or

2.) Walking around the country lanes near Blogley looking for Prunus Spinosa; or

3.) In a hedge at the side of a country lane near Blogley, actually picking the little b*ggers.

Obviously I am talking about Sloes and more importantly: Sloe Gin

Here's the recipe:

Pick your sloes from blackthorn hedges in October or November when they are most ripe - probably after the first frosts.

Take a litre bottle of gin, and drink half a litre

Cut or prick the sloes and drop into the half-empty bottle so that they displace the remaining gin to near the top.

Add one wine goblet of sugar (approx 150g).

All you have to do now is turn or agitate the bottle daily for a week, then weekly for a month or two ... by which time it will be ready to drink (but it is really best kept until the next winter). Please enjoy or pop round to Blog Cottage anytime after 26th December.

Vino de Casa

Today I shall be mostly picking the chardonnay grape:

see here:

Oddly enough there is a vineyard in Blogley!!!

There I was licking my metaphorical wounds about the failure to attain the parent governor position when Slim mentioned to me and I chanced upon the ad in the Blogley Parish Gazette about the possibility of earning some cash to pick grapes at the 'Big House' of Blogley known locally as " Blenkinsops Yard" . Christ I was excited.

No sooner had I entered the hallowed gates of Blenkinsops Yard when I, quite literally, fell over one of the residents ( springer spaniel called 'Cave' or 'bubbles' or something) I stood up and approached the table of grape picking secaturs ( I have no idea how to spell that word ) and so began my grape-picking adventure.

Spent the next two and one half hours entertained by a local celebrity ex-military type. You see you stand either side of the vine and work your way down snipping away. As a result, you end up chatting to your picking buddy for hours about everything. The picking or more accurately the cutting of the grape is a hugely therapeutic activity and if you get a picking buddy of interest, you may pass many hours of pleasant fun and discussion enjoying oneself chatting away about the pros and cons of life and religion and politics etc...

But then I do like to talk.............