Aaaaahhhhh! “Womb Food”!

There comes a time in everybody’s week when they forgo the fancy food, healthy options and the spicy dishes and want to climb back into their youth.

Throughout my twenties, I had many moments like this. Surrounded by excellent Indian restaurants, Pizzerias, health food stores and amazing shops, I simply wanted my food to envelope me and make me feel all better after a long day at work.

I took to cooking such culinary delights as Chips, Beans and Sausages only to discover my flatmate eagerly ogling my plate so I cooked even more Chips, Beans and Sausages. Then the flat downstairs heard and they were in line to be fed. Our network of pals heard and people started calling by when I was cooking what affectionately became known as “Womb Food”.

The menu expanded to cope with growing need and visitors. Troughs of homemade Shepard’s Pie (always served with Baked Beans) were devoured by the masses. Piping hot bowls of Macaroni Cheese were also well received. Soft, fresh, batch bread filled with hot sausages (red sauce for the girls, brown sauce for the boys) was a Saturday morning favourite.

As the menu expanded, so too did a number of waist bands. Desserts started making an appearance. There was vanilla ice cream sprinkled with Flake chocolate. Viennetta drowned in shop bought chocolate sauce. Or my homemade Bread and Butter Pudding which I doubt every hit the sides of some people’s mouths, it was devoured so quickly.

When the visitors left, and we felt in need of extra culinary cuddles, myself and the flatmate would curl up in front of our nearly obsolete black and white television, PJs on with steaming hot mugs of Hot Chocolate and Cadbury Flakes to dip in.

The Bread and Butter Pudding was always a big hit. I never got why. I was simply replicating a taste from my youth but everyone said that there was a bit of a twist to it. Must have been the grated lemon rind I sprinkled in between the layers…

Bread and Butter Pudding from Number 29

Ingredients
12-14 slices of white bread (day old is better)
Oodles of soft butter (margarine is a poor substitute!)
4 large eggs
1 pint full fat milk (or can use ¾ pint milk and ¼ cream)
3 ounces sugar
2 ounces good quality sultanas (either use dry or soaked in a little apple juice beforehand)
Grated rind of large lemon

Method
1. Use an oval Pyrex dish about 12 inches by 8 inches
2. Place all ingredients and a damp cloth on the counter beside you because this gets mighty messy!
3. Butter the inside of the dish.
4. Cut the crusts off the bread. Cut the slices into triangles and butter each side
5. Cover the bottom of the dish with these bread triangles
6. Sprinkle with some sultanas and a pinch of lemon rind
7. Add another layer of triangles, sprinkle with more sultanas and lemon rind, etc.
8. On the top layer, arrange the pieces in a nice pattern. Some like to sprinkle sultanas on the top but I think they simply get burnt so I keep all the fruit under cover
9. Now wipe clean your buttery hands in that damp cloth!
10. In a bowl, whisk the eggs, milk and sugar together until the mix is frothy and the sugar dissolved
11. Pour this mixture liberally over the bread to ensure it is fully immersed in the liquid
12. Place in the fridge for about an hour to allow it to absorb. It can be left longer if you want to prepare it in advance
13. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees
14. Place in the middle of the oven and bake for about 30 minutes until the top is brown and there is no visible liquid
15. At the 15 minute mark, I sometimes take it out and sprinkle some cinnamon sugar on the top
16. Serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Great British Bake Off, Stuff and Nonsense

Oooooh, come in GBBO. We’ve been expecting you….

The Grand Prix of Baking is back on our screens and with its arrival is the simultaneous depletion of sugar, flour and icing funnels in every shop throughout the British Isles. The Great British Bake Off – affectionately referred to as GBBO – has taken baking to a new, delicious, level and its spectators to a whole new stratosphere.

With a flurry of flour, a blast of baking powder, a smidgen of suet and a whirl of a whisk, it has sashayed from its spot on BBC2 to prime time viewing on BBC1. And deserving of this place it is. Now in its fifth series, its popularity continues to rise and rise to soufflé proportions with the finals last year attracting a staggering 9.1 million viewers. Out-peaking its nearest rival, Top Gear, in the rating stakes, its formula has been bought by over fourteen countries so we are not the only ones who flock to it like bees to a Honey Cake.

What is it about the GBBO that makes us hit Sky+ every time we hear a new series is on its way? It’s tame – twelve people stand in a tent and…eh…bake or kneel in front of ovens as we look on. It’s gentile. It’s nice. The people are like us. Nice. On paper, it doesn’t sound like a winning recipe.

Across the pond, baking at a competitive level is a mean sport. Compared to its American counterparts, the GBBO doesn’t carry any of that grit or vigour. With Ultimate Cake Off, size really does matter with bakers competing to create cakes over 5ft tall which carry oodles and oodles of pounds in weight. They concentrate on aspects of technical difficulty, aesthetic appeal and tripping up their competitors by knocking them out for 30 minute segments. Taste figures in there too – just – but more attention is placed on girth than mirth as these bakers do battle. Like other American baking programmes, it may look like a kitchen but act like a hardware store when a range of tools is thrown in the mix. For its finale, Cup Cake Wars expects 1,000 cup cakes of different varieties prepared in two hours. Competing teams are allowed assistants and…eh…a carpenter… Blow torches, belt sanders, power saws – the possibilities are endless as are the ingredients where basil and oysters can sidle their way in under the heady challenge of ‘Aphrodisiac Cup Cakes’ for a match-making party.

Back to the comparative tranquillity and twee-ness that is the GBBO. Idyllically set in the garden of a Country House, nestled under cover of a marquee on a warm summer’s day with a set which looks like an explosion in a Cath Kidston factory. It’s difficult to get more quintessentially English than this. But don’t be fooled! It may lack the physicality of the American programmes but GBBO is a battle of wills, striving for perfection over erection. A mouth twisted in a wasp sucking gesture, Mary Berry can floor contestants with one look as quickly as she can raise them up with an exclamation of ‘positively scrumptious.’ Swaggering over, hands in jeans’ pockets, Paul Hollywood can ask a pointed question so sharp it deflates confidence – instantly. And in between the cookers and counters skip Sue Perkins and Mel Giedroyc spitting out puns quicker than bakers bake buns and throwing in every sexual innuendo conceivable.

The bakers bake. They fret. They sweat. They create with one eye on beating their new found baking buddies and the other on creaming butter, eggs and sugar. Age or experience is not a factor here; it is how smooth you can get your Crème Pat that really matters.

Skills present in one round can instantly evaporate in the next. Mary and Paul judge masterpieces while then looking on in horror as bread is plaited into creations that could terrify even Tim Burton. As bakers hurdle the Technical Challenge, surmount the Signature Bake and wow with the Showstopper, personalities start to ooze to the surface. Who can forget doe-eyed Ruby of the quivering lip or Brendan the Buddhist Baker?

We sit in our homes, barking at the bakers in our telly-box to whip, beat, cream with all the aggression of well-seasoned sports pundits. We tell them the ingredients to use and despair when they pick Genoese sponge over traditional Madeira because how could they not know it will sink under the weight of all that lavender icing? We are shocked at any foul play and demand that custard thieves be spat out immediately. And we watch, aghast, heads buried behind cushions, as a procession of soggy bottoms make their way to the Judging Table.

This is serious business. As we sit glued to the challenges, teenage daughters and sons replicate the masterpieces in our kitchens while the ranks of the Women’s Institute swell to unprecedented proportions. We watch in our millions, the rise and fall of egos and sponges and when we are surprised by the choice of ultimate winner, remark with sheer, unprecedented, delight – ‘Oh, my giddy, giddy, aunt!’

Family Stories and Food, Handy Household Hints from Mommy Dearest

Handy Household Hints from Mommy Dearest

To make me the best housewife ever was my mother’s ultimate goal. It surpassed all dreams of higher education. A lady only had a career, if absolutely necessary, to make herself more eligible and work until such time as she could take up the post of ‘housewife’.

And so my mother spent endless (endless) hours teaching me how to cook, bake, crochet, sew, embroider and keep house. She taught me how to make beds with knife edge precision corner folding that would make an Army Captain wince. Knitting went by the way side when, much to her disgust, I simply couldn’t coordinate two needles.

During this hardcore training process, she imparted handy household tips. Mastering these would set me apart from other contenders in the housewife stakes and make me the ultimate ‘good catch’.

Problem was, I never really listened. I wasn’t interested in learning how to make silver glimmer and crystal sparkle. Marks on a table could, and were, easily covered by a coaster. If cooking vegetables generated a smell, I simply opened the nearest window. I couldn’t get my head out of the books until I emerged without spouse but with the dreaded career! My mother’s sense of failure was obvious – as much as was my sense of relief!

The other day, I found some of these household hints she saved through the years. With the passage of time, they seem quite…eh…useful!

To counteract odour
A cut onion placed in a dark corner will counteract odour.

Soufflé
A pinch of Bread Soda in a soufflé helps to prevent it subsiding when cooked.

Mark on a polished table
For heat marks on a polished table, use cigarette ash applied with a soft cloth.

Fishy smelling cooking utensils
If a saucepan or even a spoon or fork smells unpleasantly fishy, wash it in the usual way, then sprinkle dry mustard powder on it and rub with a wet rag. Then rinse.

For a burn
Rub gently over with a piece of butter.

Cauliflower odour
To prevent the smell of boiling cauliflower, put a piece of bread in the water.

Silver cloth
Mix one teaspoon of plate powder, one tablespoon of ammonia, one teaspoon of methylated spirits and one teacup water. Dip cloth into this solution and leave to dry. A towelling cloth is most suitable.

Rough hands
Put a small teaspoonful of sugar on the palm of your hand. Add a few drops of olive oil. Rub it in, then wash in warm water to get nice smooth hands.

Baking and stuff, Family Stories and Food, Greta of the Griddle, Griddle Bread

Greta of the Griddle

My Godparents were posh. They looked posh, spoke posh, lived posh and ate posh.

Born slightly after the turn of the twentieth century, Mervyn was the son of a doctor who lived and had Rooms on the rather salubrious, leafy, Merrion Square in Dublin’s centre. He and his two sisters were attended to by ‘Staff’, went to the best of schools, enjoyed the Square as their garden and had pet monkeys which, he assured me, were quite common in the Dublin of that time.

Greta was more exotic. Born and raised in Canada, she came with her family to Ireland in her teens. I would meet her later in her life, when she had grown to resemble in face and mannerisms the wonderful English actress, Margaret Rutherford. A marvellous cook, Greta delivered delicious meals and baked like a demon for charities and church events. Some of the food, like her accent, was a throwback to the British Empire – curried eggs and Kedigree – foods we marvelled at but remained reluctant to taste (put off by the odd colour and spicy smell).

And in between all the posh and foreign nosh, she would take out a griddle. Seeing Greta with all her fine manners, jewellry and clothes cook on a griddle just seemed plain wrong. Even as a child, I felt this implement was best suited to an open fire in a cottage than on a top of the market, gas stove, in their art deco home. And so, I would watch as she cooked Griddle Bread on that contraption until done. It was always delicious but I doubt those who savoured it, would ever believe that Greta cooked it herself on a griddle!

The tripod griddle would be placed on the stove top with the gas on a medium high to heat the cast iron base. She would make the dough and…eh…then…Greta would griddle.

Ingredients
1lb flour
1.5 ounces sugar
Pinch of salt
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1.5 ounces of melted butter
1/3 pint of full fat milk
1 large egg

Method
1. Combine the dry ingredients
2. Combine the wet ingredients until one liquid
3. Add the wet to the dry and mix thoroughly
4. On a lightly floured board, shape the mix into a cake shape with a flat top
5. Cook on the hot griddle – about 7 minutes each side
6. When cooked, it will have texture of a very large English muffin,

Cutting it into triangles, Greta would divide each again into two. She would spread one side with butter and slather the other with her homemade jam. As I would sit on a stool at her breakfast counter, eating this warm delight, warm butter/jam concoction dripping off the bread and onto my fingers, I would watch as she cleaned the kitchen. The last thing to do was to rub a light coating of oil into the griddle to stop it from rusting before she put it away. And with the kitchen tidied, the griddle would be no more…

Baking and stuff, Baking and the Delights of Being a Researcher, Dark Chocolate Cake, Stuff and Nonsense

Baking and the Delights of Being a Researcher…

Through the years, I have worked on quite an array of projects and campaigns. In the late 1990s, I spent many months in a darkened room, flicking through decades of Irish newspapers stored on Microfiche. Ah, those were the days when researcher-friendly technology had yet to arrive – working through pages so awkwardly photographed that you stand on your head and still be unable to read them!

While I scoured the paper for gruesome information to prepare a client for the Tobacco Trials, I did so in-between hordes of Americans looking through Church Records for their Irish ancestors. The Librarian’s knuckles would whiten as he gripped the Information Desk, listening to yet another visitor reveal enthusiastically how their great, great, great grandfather came from ‘Ire-land’ and while they didn’t know the county, they were sure the surname was ‘Murphy’.

As they searched the records, their roars cracked the expected silence of the library and their delight met with scowls from the rest of us. One group was particularly raucous. I was about to lean over to ask them to pipe down until I spotted what they were looking at – my own family tree. Not being in the mood to reclaim lost relatives, I returned to my work and simply carried on…

Spending up to seven hours a day looking at Microfiche, my mind would take to wandering. I delighted in reading ads for jobs clearly stating a higher rate of pay for men over women doing the same job. I read reports of police searches for the spy, Guy Burgess, while I knew from history he was already in Russia by this time. As I covered year after year of newspapers, I was particularly stunned to learn of the overwhelming popularity of an entertainer called the “Chocolate Covered Coon” – a name which now makes the Black and White Minstrels seem almost respectable.[1] I would emerge at the end of the day into daylight: notebooks full, copies ordered with bleary eyes and a mindful of facts which were alarmingly out-of-date if I bumped into a pal who asked the inevitable question “Any news?”

I scanned through the Women’s pages too and collected recipes from bygone years. I found this one in The Irish Press of 3 May, 1962 and tried it out on the teen. It’s low flour content and deep chocolate flavour met with instant approval even if it was pronounced ‘very rich.’

Ingredients
3 eggs, separated
4 ounces of bitter, dark, chocolate*
4 ounces unsalted butter
4 ounces castor sugar
2 ounces ground almonds
1.5 ounces plain flour

*It is essential to use bitter, dark, chocolate in this cake

Method
1. Beat the butter and sugar until it is pale
2. Melt the chocolate in a bowl over a pan of water
3. When melted, allow it to cool down
4. Whip the egg whites until stiff and set aside
5. Combine thoroughly the butter and sugar mixture with the chocolate, almonds, flour and yolks of the eggs
6. Fold in the stiff whisked egg whites
7. Place the mixture into one greased sandwich tin
8. Cook in a non-Fan oven at 180 for about 45 minutes (place a little tin foil on top if cake top looks as if it is cooking too quickly)
9. Insert skewer into the centre to ensure the cake is cooked – if it comes out clean, it is
10. Cool on a wire rack
11. Serve with whipped cream.

[1] http://www.bigredbook.info/g_h_elliott.html

Baking and the Political Divide

Dreary, soggy, dark, Winter’s evening and I arrive in one of my favourite cities, Belfast. I hop into a taxi and give the driver the address of where I am meeting my pal. Heels on the ground, I alight from the car, pay Mr. Cabbie and click-click-click my way into the cafe where we are meeting.

We greet and launch into chatter as we enjoy a long overdue catch-up. Steaming coffee is served and with hands wrapped around the mug in an attempt to channel heat to the rest of my body, I ask “So which part of the city am I in? Nationalist or Unionist?”

My pal laughs and tells me to guess. I rise to the challenge and within seconds I declare “Unionist!” Completely stunned, he asks how I knew. I quickly think of smart retorts – ‘divine intervention’ and the like. In the end, I point at the menu board hanging on the wall. “Easy”, says I. “They sell ‘Tray Bakes’! Standard fare at all Protestant Church Fetes. What your lot would call ‘slices’ or ‘squares’!”

So you can navigate a city by baking. Who knew?

Fish, Tuna and Tomato Risotto, Uncategorized

No stir tuna and tomato risotto

Risotto is a firm favourite in this house. It’s on the list of ‘Ultimate Comfort Foods.’ There are times, however, when standing over the stove, adding ladle after ladle of stock, is a task too far.

This is easy and quick to prepare. It’s also a big hit with the Teen and her pals. No stirring. No adding stock bit by bit. Perfect for the end of a long day!

Ingredients
1 large onion, chopped finely
2 cloves of garlic, chopped finely
2 courgettes, chopped into small cubes
1 cup of risotto rice (Arborio rice)
1 tin of chopped tomatoes
2 cups of vegetable stock
1 tin of tuna fish, drained
Salt and pepper to season

Method
1. Combine all the ingredients in a casserole dish
2. Cover with lid and cook in a fan oven at 180C for 30 minutes (or until the rice is cooked)
3. Stir thoroughly before serving
4. Serve with a mixed green salad

Mashed Potatoes, Vegetables

Mash, mash and…eh…more mash!

Mashed potato? The food of the Gods. I could eat it, drink it, bathe in it, wash my face in it and when it hardens, exfoliate with it, I love it that much. To say the Teen loathes it is an understatement. She detests it – the texture, the taste, the feel. When it comes to mash, we are very much at opposite ends of the potato field.

This causes a problem. Continuously, I opt for cooking food she adores but now and again, I want food for me. Shepherd’s pie with a delicious topping of mash is one of the ultimate comfort foods but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth when I see the sullen look on her face or listening to her whinge about it. Alright already! I get it! You don’t like mash but there has to be some compromise.

I’ve tried cheese and mash toppings – no joy. I tried a mash made of sweet potato and even typing that makes me wince at the memory. I’ve used Champ – deliciously made with milk, butter and chopped scallions – but it didn’t tantalise the Teen’s taste buds. Eventually, I had a Eureka moment! Leave the carrots out of the meat mixture and instead mash them into the potato with finely minced onion, some hot milk and a guilty dollop of butter. The Teen approved and all is well with the world again!

The perfect mash…?
The perfect mash is the one that tastes best to you. There is no magic formula but there are a few tips.

Tips
For me, the potatoes have to be of the fluffiest variety – for example, Golden Wonders, Roosters, Kerr Pinks. Start by peeling the potatoes and running under cold water to ensure all starch is gone.

The less water left after cooking the better. I favour steaming as this leaves them ready for mashing. By steaming rather than boiling, you don’t risk them disintegrating into mush in the pan. If I do boil them, I drain the potatoes completely. I return them to the now off hob, place a lid on them and let them dry out (mind they don’t stick!).

Whichever way I cook them, I put them into a warm saucepan on a low heat. I put in enough milk to cover the bottom of the pan, a generous portion of butter, salt and pepper. And then the mashing commences. I favour an old fashioned masher – a potato ricer can be used but it just seems unnatural to me. Giving the potatoes a good battering is a good way to relieve stress! To know if potatoes are properly mashed, run a (clean) finger along a scoop to see if there are lumps present. If lumps are present, mash on! Add salt and pepper and always taste to see if it suits your taste buds.

Here are some measurements and variations…

Basic recipe
2½ lbs potatoes
2-4 ounces butter
Warm milk (enough to cover the bottom of saucepan or 7-8 tablespoons)
Salt and pepper to season

Champ
Add 3-4 ounces of finely chopped scallions to the basic recipe. Traditionally, scallions (spring onions) are added to the mix. Finely chopped onion can be substituted.

Colcannon
9 ounces Kale cabbage, shredded and steamed (washed thoroughly and stalks removed)
2 tablespoons of pouring cream
Small onion, chopped finely.

Add these to the basic recipe omitting the milk. Traditionally, Kale cabbage is used but not everyone is wowed by the taste. The Teen loves the stuff and would happily chomp on Colcannon if it was mainly Kale with only a hint of potato. I’m not a fan – so I substitute white or Savoy cabbage as these have a milder flavour and smoother texture. She calls me a wimp; I prefer to say my palate is more cultured! 🙂

Baking and stuff, Fairy Buns, Let's Hear it for Fairy Buns!

Let’s hear it for Fairy Buns!

I blinked and suddenly the humble Fairy Bun was displaced by its glamorous American cousin, the Cup Cake. When I saw these first, I felt a tad bit intimidated as they were so stunningly iced and presented (and priced!). By comparison, the Fairy Bun looks ragged and home-made rather than designer conceived and created.

So what’s the difference? I googled each and found Fairy Buns defined as ‘a small individual sponge cake, usually with icing or other decoration.’ And Cup Cake? It was described as…‘a small cake designed for one person…’

What of the recipe? I had a look at a number of versions for each. The basic recipes are very similar except for the repetitive addition of vanilla essence to the Cup Cake batter. So methinks it’s all in the individualisation and presentation.

Ah – the humble Fairy Bun. It doesn’t matter what mix you use or how it is presented, it invariably looks homemade. Since the advent of the Cup Cake, however, it has been relegated to second place and eaten to extinction. Well, almost. I do encounter the odd ragged version at the Church Fete described ambitiously as a ‘Cup Cake’ but not at all in the same league.

Fairy Bun, Cup Cake – they are very different beasts. I am advocating the return of the Fairy Bun to centre stage and to the memory of so many people who made these with mums, daughters, sons, grandmothers in Irish kitchens throughout the world!

In this house, Fairy Buns reign supreme while the Cup Cake can visit – by appointment! For me, the Cup Cake can never displace the Fairy Bun as it carries none of the nostalgia. When I see the paper cake holders, I am back in my mother’s kitchen, sitting on the scruffy blue stool, watching her skilfully scoop cake mix off the spoon into the paper case with her (clean) little finger without upsetting the holder. And while they baked, there would be the ceremonial cleaning of the bowl and spoon – first by human tongue and then washing-up liquid and hot water. Serious discussion on presentation and filling would follow. Yes, the decorating stage would be messing, it would be ruthless but the end result was ours. The Teen and I share similar memories but I must admit that her skill in Fairy Bun making and decorating now surpasses mine.

With my mum, we made the basic recipe but often jazzed it up. We might add chocolate drinking powder to all the mix or on occasions to half the mix. Doing this meant we could make marbled sponge with a rather yummy two tone flavour. As a child, I loved experimenting with a variety of food colourings to create more marbled effects but, being heavy handed with the bottle, often ended up with navy blue or scarlet red sponge. Worse still, the end product might resemble coloured ‘Marla’ all rolled in together.[1]

Here’s the basic recipe used in this kitchens of this family with a few samples of how we dice and ice them.

Basic recipe
(makes 6-8)
Ingredients
2 ounces margarine or unsalted butter, softened
2 ounces castor sugar
1 egg
3 ounces of self-raising flour, sifted

Method
1. Heat the oven at 190F.
2. Prepare a muffin tin with paper cake cases.
3. Blend the butter and sugar together until pale.
4. Beat the egg and add in stages to butter/sugar mix until combined.
5. Fold in the sifted flour with a metal spoon – in three stages.
6. Put about a dessert spoon of mixture into each case.
7. Bake in the middle of the oven for 10 minutes or until risen.
8. Insert a skewer into the bun and if it comes away clean, the bun is cooked.
9. When baked, stand upright and cool on a wire rack.

Chocolate
Sometimes we take out a tablespoon of flour and replace it with a tablespoon of Cocoa or drinking chocolate (the Teen always throws in a tad bit more believing chocolate heals all ailments!).

Marbled
Feeling a tad bit more creative, I make double the mixture. In one bowl, I add food colouring or drinking chocolate. Putting alternative spoons from each bowl, I fill up each cake case. When baked, these have a lovely mottled effect and/or a cross of flavours.

Chocolate butter icing
This house agrees that the best way to serve chocolate Fairy Buns is covered in chocolate butter icing. I make this by combining into a smooth paste 2 ounces of sifted icing sugar, 1 ounce of butter, 1/2 ounce of drinking chocolate and one tablespoon of cold milk. Spread the mix lavishly all over the top of freshly baked buns. The Teen often skips this stage, preferring to slather the buns in Nutella!

Butterfly (traditional or chocolate)
If the above sound very conservative, you can simply decapitate the humble Fairy Bun! Take the piece and carefully cut in half. The traditional version adds a small spoonful of raspberry jam and then a small spoonful of slightly sweetened, fresh whipped cream on top before replacing the cut pieces. These should be positioned at angles to give the look of butterfly wings.

We have also been known to ditch the jam and cream, replacing it with chocolate butter icing or Nutella.

Jam and coconut
A personal favourite is warmed raspberry jam spread on the top. When coated, the bun is rolled on a plate of desiccated coconut until it is completely covered.

Nana Margaret’s
No discussion about Fairy Buns in our home would be complete without mentioning my aunt’s version. It is so delightful to see the reaction as she opens the cake tin when her grandchildren pop by. ‘Nana Margaret’s’ are the best – ever. She dips the top into melted chocolate and when cooling, adds coloured sprinkles over the top. Delightful and nostalgic – all contained in one cake case! Delish.

[1] Mala/Marla is the Irish word for plastercine, a feature of Primary School classrooms.

Understanding Measurements

Measurements, measurements and more measurements…!

I’m a child of the Sixties. Like many of my fellow Sixties babies, I had to learn not one but three currencies. After getting to terms with the fact that there were 220 pennies in a pound, I was told this was wrong and that there were in fact only 100. I’m fine with this but then am told there are no more pennies, only cents. Phew! I’m up to speed now and no longer feel the mad urge to ask ‘What’s that in old money?’

Measuring ingredients changed too but making that all-important transition from Imperial to Metric did not come easy. Ireland seemed to keep both which was a help and a hindrance. Enter in cookery books to muddle this further. I have my mother’s as well as my own so ounces and pounds are still the way most ingredients are measured in this house.

The Teen is a Metric person and delights in being able to calculate them for me as I hang my head and think ‘The shame, the shame…’ She tries to teach me but I revert to ounces every time. For me, a pound is manageable but 456 grams is daunting! Seems like the only way I am going to learn is to set it all out in a table and so, for the Metric-ly challenged like myself, I give you…

Imperial Metric
1 oz 28g
2 oz 56g
3 oz 85g
4 oz 113g
5 oz 141g
6 oz 170g
7 oz 198g
8 oz 226g
16 oz (lb) 456g
2.2 lbs 1kg

So that’s the measurements. They also changed the heat!

Oven
Gas Mark Fahrenheit Celsius Description
¼ 225 110 Very cool/very slow
½ 250 130 —
1 275 140 Cool
2 300 150 —
3 325 170 Very moderate
4 350 180 Moderate
5 375 190 —
6 400 200 Moderately hot
7 425 220 Hot
8 450 230 —
9 475 240 Very hot

With all this detail, I will be able to cook anything from any era and with any appliance. I will be MasterChef in my own culinary universe! Mwahahahahaha!

The Teen in the Attic

Enticing the Teen to the table and other matters

Author Archives: MG McShane