Goodwood videos, James Martin and a new Ferrari 599 GTO

So here’s one for all you petrol heads. English Dad was at Goodwood yesterday. He was supposed to be working, but judging by this, there wasn’t much working occurring… (check out the smile - makes me laugh every time I watch it):

Just check out that noise!

They were at Goodwood for a track day so that Matt could have a play with his new toys: a beautiful white Ferrari 599 GTO (‘ £300,000 give or take a few lira’, says the hubster, breezily):

… and a new Ferrari 599 F1 California convertible (a snip at £170,000 - sadly only one pic of this):

And Hubby’s new mission seems to be to get everyone to say hello to me. Here’s Matt, one of the Hubster’s helicopter students and the owner of this beautiful machine:

…and then just as they were loading the cars back onto the transporter at the end, a brand new Aston Martin Virage (convertible) turned up, James Martin got out, and stood and had a chat with them all.

Did he get a photo of James Martin? Did he hell.

Sacked, I tell you. Sacked.

Dinner with Dhruv and giveaway copies of the new Masterchef at Home book!

Did you watch Masterchef last night? I’m a bit of an addict - I really wanted Tom to win, but very pleased for the lovely Tim.

To celebrate Tim’s win, and also because I’m just a big bloody lump of loveliness, I’ve got 5 copies of the new Masterchef at Home book to give away!

Dorling Kindersley are also giving away an amazing prize of dinner for 4, cooked by the Masterchef 2010 winner, Dhruv Baker IN YOUR HOME! All you have to do is visit dk.com/masterchef to enter.

I’ve got five copies of the new Dorling Kindersley Masterchef at Home book to give away. Just leave a comment and tell me something interesting.

Oh and don’t forget that my buddy Nick Coffer will have the brand new Masterchef Winner, Tim Anderson, on his show this weekend - 12 noon on BBC Three Counties Radio. Don’t miss it!

********************This comp is now closed, but don’t forget you can still enter the Dhruv Baker competition! The winners of the Masterchef at Home books, chosen at random by volunteer Twitterer @Tinky_Pink are: Matt, Lisa, Terry, Shelly and Katie. Congratulations all! ********************************************************

In which the Mad Professor turns 16

I am the mother of a 16 year old. There, I said it. I know, I feel really old.

Of course with 16 year olds, you get the hormones… the moodiness… the constant demands for money… the vast tranches of time when they’re lolling about making the place look untidy, or just unconscious…

But you also get moments like this:

He’s not complained too much about being away from COD Black Ops for a whole two weeks… it helped that he spent the whole of Sunday getting sweaty at paintball with his mate Steve - they came back filthy, bruised and knackered. But still smiling.

He’s hugely different from his brother, but their differences make them who they are, and we love them both. We’re so proud. Happy birthday, Sam xx

Knackered Mother’s Wine Guide to Easter

So my lovely gorgeous friend Helen, wine expert, International Wine Challenge judge, writer of Knackered Mother’s Wine Club and all-round wine smarty pants, is used to my incessant pestering for guest posts on wine. Happily, she’s lifted the restraining order just enough to accept a request for a no-holds-barred guide to Easter wine, even how to match wine with the dreaded chocky egg. Over to you, lovely Hells:

Now that Spring has definitely sprung and Easter Sunday is in sight, there’s been a shift in what I look forward to in my glass at the end of the day. There are a few more aromatic, ‘floral’ whites such as Sauvignon Blanc or Riesling rather than the winter-warming oaked Chardonnays and higher-than-average-alcohol Viogniers making it into the fridge. The deep, intense Shiraz and Cabernet Sauvignon- dominated red wines are moving over for lighter, fruitier Gamay, Sangiovese or Pinot Noir style wines. Given the unpredictability of our weather I’ll keep some of those winter warmers in the wine rack, just in case. But, with fingers firmly crossed, here are some wines that should put a spring in your step and just happen to go a dream with traditional Easter fodder:

Fizz-tastic!

The shops are chock-full of sparkling wine deals at Easter time so you really can take your pick of the bargains. Of course, you can go for a cheaper Prosecco but it really is worth spending a bit more on something that gets its bubbles from being fermented in the bottle a second time. If you like a lean, elegant style of Champagne – think Kate Moss pre-Pete Doherty– go for a Blanc de Blancs. That means it is only made from Chardonnay grapes. If you like your Champagne with more flesh and curves on show – think Elizabeth Hurley in THAT dress – go for a Blanc de Noirs. This means it is only made from the permitted red grapes, Pinot Noir and/or Pinot Meunier. If you can’t choose between the two, go for a blend of all three grapes but make it a Premier Cru (meaning made from grapes grown in slightly higher-rated vineyards than your average Champers): Tesco do a brilliant one in their Finest range.

Red Wines ♥ Lamb

Assuming you’ve got a huge leg of lamb stuffed full of garlic and rosemary in the oven, you’ll need a red to go with it. You can try a white, but the fat (from the lamb) and the acidity (from the white) will fight and both will taste the worse for it. However, give the lamb a juicy red with some lovely supple tannins and everything will taste as it should. Both Cabernet Sauvignon and the lovely, if slightly slutty, Tempranillo grape from Spain – what Rioja is made of – are great matches for lamb. If you are doing a lighter take on lamb, going easy on the garlic & herbs, then a New World Pinot Noir will also make a great match. Try one from New Zealand or Chile (the latter being slightly cheaper).

Wine & Chocolate

I know lots of people who swear by red wine and chocolate being a heavenly match. I’m not one of them. Years ago, when working as a wine buyer for a big supermarket I developed a range of wines to go with particular foods. One of the wines on the list had to go with chocolate so, hard as it was, I tasted about 50 different wines with a variety of puddings including chocolate. Almost none of the combinations worked. Tannins, found in red wines, are not bessie mates with chocolate. The best match is either a light Moscato-style fizz or a lovely thick sweet wine like Banyuls from France.

Happy Easter x

Give me paella! A bimble around Portobello Market

Oh we’re having such a fun time at English Grandma’s. I’m slightly worried, though, because I’ve done nothing but eat so far - they might have to roll me into the cargo section of the aircraft to get me home…

On Saturday, while the newly-hatched teenager was trying to mangle himself at Bay Sixty6, we decided to head off into the local area and walk around a bit (four hours watching your child trying to snap off their limbs is not an enticing prospect, believe me). Having absolutely no knowledge of London, we were just going to bimble around and people-watch (the houses in that area are amazing - the one I liked in the Estate Agent’s window was a snip at 1.3 mil).

Happily, though, our bimbling led us straight into Portobello Road, and the market, which was in full swing:

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I couldn’t believe it and hopped around like a lunatic while English Dad sort of looked like he wasn’t really with me. ’It’s like Notting Hill!’ I said.

‘It is bloody Notting Hill’, the embarrassed one muttered.

I meant the movie, but anyhoo, we set off to check out the stalls, with me grinning like a loon and English Dad looking a bit perplexed. On a Saturday, the market is over a mile long, with bits spreading out under the Westway and in all directions - we marvelled at the fabulous fresh fruit and veg stalls:

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…the piles of gorgeously fragrant freshly-baked bread:

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…and all manner of really entrepreneurial stalls - I especially liked the lovely lady that makes and sells cute little knickers and tops (I wasn’t allowed to linger there, hence the lack of photo) and these fabulous wooden spoons and things:

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Oh and the fooood! We’d had breakfast, which was a mistake, as everything looked so delicious… the jerk chicken stands, the huge pans of paella bubbling away:

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Oh and we saw the Hummingbird Bakery! (wasn’t allowed in there either) and on Saturdays there’s an amazing antiques market, where I tried really hard not to buy any fabulous old enamel ware or ancient silver fish slices, for fear of busting my Ryanair allowance on the way back.

It’s such a fab place, though. Highly recommended.

Now how does that song go? ‘Roll me on home…’

Review: Cakes by Pam Corbin (River Cottage Handbook no 8)

I knew I was going to love this book from the moment I was offered a review copy. I stalked our poor postie, Bernard, mercilessly every day until he was beginning to look a little uncomfortable, I was so looking forward to reading it.

Happily (for me and Bernard, it appeared. And I wasn’t wrong. I bloody love it. Cakes (River Cottage Handbook) is probably one of those books that could render half my cookery book collection redundant, it’s that useful. I even took it on a recent Aer Lingus flight where the lady sitting next to me in departures took a look at it, nodded and smiled appreciatively. I mean, who doesn’t love River Cottage? And who hasn’t watched ‘Pam the Jam’ working her magic?

And yes, I’m a sucker for a bit of pink, so the cover alone is enough to make me want to carry it around in my handbag, but the contents more than compete in the gorgeousness stakes, believe me.

I’m a page turner-over (I know, kill me now) and this book now has so many corners turned over I can barely shut it. Pam’s recipes for retro favourites are on my must-cook list (jammy dodgers!), and so is her fabulous chocolate fudge icing recipe. I also spied a really gorgeous gluten-free lime and coconut cake that I want to pass on to a Coeliac friend.

There are some really great old-fashioned favourites here, like cherry cake and proper fruit cake, but also some really surprising new ones to try, my faves being a really interesting looking potato and apple cake, plus a twist on the wonderful Battenburg, made with chocolate and hazelnuts.

I love a cookery book that is more than just a collection of recipes. I want something I can take to bed (or on a plane) and read, and really get a sense of the person writing the book, and the stories behind the recipes. This book more than delivers.

Don’t be put off thinking this is just another book about cakes. It’s an absolute must-have for seasoned cakeophiles and beginners alike. Grab it while it’s hot.

The River Cottage Cakes Handbook is published by Bloomsbury and available now on Amazon, priced £7.68.

The birthday Death Wish Dude goes to London

So it’s the Death Wish Child’s birthday. Actually, I might now have to change his name, seeing as he is now officially a teenager.

Yes, I am the mother of two teenagers. Kill me now.

The dude’s most fervent birthday wish was for a pair of hideously expensive Remz OS4 skates. Now, for 99 percent of you, these words will mean very little, but for most of the teenagey skatery-type chaps reading this, there’ll be all sorts of drooling and hyperventilating at the very thought. Here they are in all their glory:

After some pretty terrible lying (mostly by his father), we managed to dupe him into thinking that there was ‘a man’ at the skate park who sold skates, and that we would purchase them on his birthday trip. Happily, he’s a gullible sod and was completely surprised when we whipped out the aforementioned skates with a flourish on his birthday. Remz. Oh yes. With blue trim. Exactly what he wanted.

The dude has been feverishly googling Bay Sixty6 in London for several weeks now. It’s a massive skate park under the Westway flyover and we promised him and his buddy Olly a birthday trip while we were over here visiting the folks. Today was the day, and we set off - the new skates nestled securely on the DWC’s lap.

When we got there, he put on his news skates, headed to the highest ramp, and promptly fell over. English Dad and I decided that we couldn’t watch and headed to Portobello Road market instead (more of this later). Happily, when we checked back, he was still alive and had all his limbs roughly in the right place, which is a bloody miracle, given he did stuff like this:

Yup. And you wondered why I couldn’t watch.

He also did a bit of this:

…and quite a bit of this:

Happily 4pm came with no broken bones, dislocated joints, smashed teeth or any of the other things I’d been trying not to think about, and we whisked him home, wondering how we could get out of EVER taking him there again.

Bah, who am I kidding? He’ll be pestering me about every ten seconds from now on…

Happy birthday, Chipper. Welcome to teenagerhood. xx

Freeze ahead brown sugar cookies

I made a batch of these the other day (the plain ones - these ones in the pic have actually got a dollop of salted caramel in their centre), and the Death Wish Child, somewhat of a cookie connoisseur, declared them to be the best cookie that I make.

‘What, these old things?’, I asked, surprised.

DWC: ‘Yup’

Me: ‘Not the double chocolate chip cookies?’

DWC: ‘Nope.’

Me: ‘Just these plain, boring fridge cookie things?’

DWC: ‘Yup.’

Me: ‘Not the home-made bourbons that we print ‘ARSE’ into?’

DWC: ‘Nope, these.’

And so, in that short conversation (he’s a man of few words, my youngest), it dawned on me. In the whole of my blogging career, a whole THOUSAND blog posts, I have omitted to publish one of the easiest, yummiest recipes in my repertoire. Shame on me.

These are the best cookies in the world, not only because they’re ridiculously easy, but because you can make double and keep the dough in the fridge, where it will happily last a good few days, but also because you can freeze these little suckers, to whip them out and bake them when unexpected guests appear, making yourself out to be breezily, carelessly efficient in the kitchen (even when the truth is, sadly, that the fluff underneath your sofa comes from a dog you no longer own *cough*).

Brown Sugar Cookies

125g butter, softened
150g dark brown sugar
1 egg, beaten
1 tsp vanilla extract
150g plain flour
50g oats

So, just cream the butter, then add the sugar and beat together until it’s light and fluffy. Add the egg, then beat again until creamy, then the vanilla. Finally, stir in the flour, then the oats and stir until it’s all combined.

Dollop the mixture in tablespoonfuls onto a baking sheet.

To freeze ahead: at this stage, you can pop the whole tray into the freezer until they’re solid, then bag them up and keep them in the freezer for the efficient bit at a later date. If you want to be really posh you can roll the dough up in a cling film sausage, chill, then slice before open-freezing:

To bake, they’ll need about 10-12 minutes at 180 degrees/gas 4, a couple of minutes more from frozen.

Go to it, then troops. Remember, we’re going for breezily, carelessly efficient, with absolutely no first degree burns.

From the sublime to the ridiculous…

So last week, then, after publishing my ‘woe is me’ blog post, feeling sorry for myself, hating everyone (not YOU obviously) and wanting desperately to curl back under the covers, I decided that a walk down the boat road was in order. Fresh air, I decided, would blow the cobwebs away.

The two, brand new baby calves were right by the gate. Obviously, as is my luck at the moment, this was the day I’d decided to come out without my camera. In fact, as I discovered when I patted my pockets for a second time… something else was missing too.

My keys.

Shiiiiit.

As I walked back up to the house, I wished, hoped and prayed (sorry, Mother) that I’d left the back door open, but even as I tried the handle, I knew what I would discover.

Locked.

I knocked next door and lovely Miss D and I sat and had a cup of tea as we decided what to do, and also agreed that maybe not keeping spare keys to each other’s houses wasn’t our most epic idea. As luck would have it, D chose this particular moment to walk back into the house, home early from work.

‘I’m sure one of these is yours’, he muttered as he grabbed a big handful of keys off his key/peggy/hanger thing - what ARE they called? And we walked back to English Towers, feeling optimistic. Our optimism soon started to fail after every key had been tried in every door about three times. We did, however, notice that the bathroom window was slightly open. The upstairs bathroom window. The really high bathroom window, upstairs.

D grabbed the ladder from the garage (it’s not my ladder, but Poppy’s Dad helpfully left it behind last time he mended my gutter) and he stood at the bottom, averting his gaze from my fetching baggy tracky bottomed-bottom as I teetered up the ladder, emitting small, worried squeaks as I climbed higher…

‘You are holding the ladder tight, aren’t you?’

‘*sigh* yeeeessss.’

The small window, happily, was open. It was just a case of posting myself through this 1′ x 3′ hole with as much dignity as I could muster. Well, I mustered none. I posted my upper body through the hole, squealing a bit louder as my bra strap caught through my shirt on the catch of the window. I was then half-way through, teetering as my waist caught on the window and my legs flailed in the air.

‘Pull yourself through!’, called D helpfully

‘I’m trying! But I can’t grab onto anything’, I wailed…

By this time, my hands were flat on the toilet seat and the window frame was painfully embedding itself into my upper thighs. All the blood was rushing to my head. It’s years since I did a handstand.

‘OWWWWW! That bloody hurts!’, I yelled…

‘Go in backwards!’, was the helpful response.

Fighting the temptation to tell my helpful neighbour what I thought of his coaching, whilst simultaneously sweeping the entire contents of my bathroom windowsill onto the floor with my arse, I changed orientation so that I was now facing the ceiling, and was hanging from the window by the backs of my knees.

D seemed to be having a bit of a coughing fit now and was no help at all so I let my back move slowly down the cystern and rested my neck and shoulders onto the toilet seat, then did a rather awkward backward roll into the room. D’s cough was getting worse, so by the time I got downstairs and opened the back door, he was bent double, face red and looking like he was going to expire. I inspected him for signs of hilarity, and finding none, thanked him for rescuing a damsel in distress, bestowing upon him the spare key so this can NEVER EVER happen again.

I’m a bit of a big poof at the best of times and I bruise like a peach. This morning I am black and blue. The fronts of my thighs are a fetching purple and the backs of my knees are red and sore. Seriously, I even have bruises on my ankles.

Oh the embarrassment. Still, I’m sure I can trust him not to tell anyone… especially the bit when my bottom was stuck out of the window and my legs were waving jauntily in the air…

As he went off down the drive, though I swear his shoulders were shaking a bit.

Throw away your baggies. I haz new pantz!

THIS COMPETITION IS NOW CLOSED - THANKS FOR YOUR ENTRIES!

Come on, what are your pants like, then? No, I’m not being pervy. Have a quick look in the ol’ knicker drawer - are they slightly baggy and greying? Thought so.

Last week I had what I initially thought was some kind of weird spam email asking me how big my bottom was. Turns out, it was the lovely chaps from Lingerie Please asking me my sizes so they could send me some gorgeous new lingerie. Yes, really!!! I’d usually keep my bottom size secret, but seeing as they were offering to cover it with lovely silky new pants, I whispered my sizes, and soon enough, these gorgeous creatures arrived:

The set on the left is a Gossard Wonderbra and little lacy shorts to match, and the one on the right is a really lovely silky steel grey bra and knickers from Triumph. They both fit fantastically and I feel like a million quid in them!

And because Lingerie Please are such fabulous, gorgeous and frankly incredibly good looking people (and because I might have done a bit of shameful begging, too - sorry Rebecca!!), they’re giving you lot the chance to win a £50 voucher to use on their site!

Sadly, they can’t promise us the bod of the model in the picture *shakes fist at girl*, but you can treat yourselves to a couple of stunning sets, or browse the sale section to get some fantastic bargains. There’s a great selection of lingerie, bras, shapewear and I spied beauty products too.

To enter, just either follow @Lingerieplease on twitter and retweet the competition tweet, or comment on this post and tell us all what you’d buy with £50.

And don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me how big your bottom is.

Competition closes 17.4.11 at midnight. Voucher will last for one month. No cash alternative.

Mrs Lister’s Q & A

Happy Friday! It’s a beautiful sunny day outside so I’m off to clean out the chickens: Lucy, my original Wyandotte (the only one who turned out to be female) and our new chook, Lily, who was a replacement for all the boys and who, incidentally, has started producing eggs finally! YAY!

In other news, my lovely friend Kerry reckons that you can tell whether someone’s either a knob or someone you could have a pint with from this simple Q&A session based on the questions in the Grauniad’s Weekend Magazine. I do hope I don’t come out in the ‘knob’ category..

Which living person do you most admire, and why?

My sister in law, Laura. She is kind, gentle, genuine, easy to talk to and has the most wickedly naughty sense of humour. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t love her to bits. She manages to find the filthiest birthday cards of anyone I’ve ever met, too.

When were you happiest

Lying by the pool in Mexico watching my children messing in the pool, Mojito in hand and my hubby snoozing on the next sunbed.

What was your most embarrassing moment?

I used to work in a police control room. I once farted on the night shift when everything was deadly quiet. Mortified.

Aside from property, what’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought?

A Raymond Weil watch for my husband’s 40th (the family chipped in, but it was still the most expensive thing I’ve ever handed over money for).

What is your most treasured possession?

My children, if I’m allowed to call them possessions? They are funny, independent, feisty, exasperating and wonderful, all at once. Other than that, my engagement ring, which belonged to my husband’s grandmother.

Where would you like to live?

Wherever my family are, but given recent events, my ideal location would be the home counties.

What’s your favourite smell?

Just one? Never. Lilies, fresh bread, green grass, chocolate cake, hot sand, Palmer’s Cocoa Butter, Johnson’s baby talc, Gorse and Bounty bars.

Who would play you in the film of your life?

You’d have to ask Liz. There’s some actress that she reckons looks exactly like me. Can’t think of her name though… Elizabeth someone?

What is your favourite book?

Changes all the time. At the moment, I’d go… cookbook: ‘Cakes’ by Pam Corbin is sublime. Normal book? Probably ’Under the Tuscan Sun’ by Frances Mayes.

What is your most unappealing habit?

I’m rather shouty and excitable, I’m told. When I was little, I began to wonder if my name was actually ‘shush’.

What would be your fancy dress costume of choice?

I have a choice? Good. I’ll stay at home. I hate parties.

What is your earliest memory?

Wearing a red dress with cherries embroidered on it

What is your guiltiest pleasure?

Gin. In all its forms, but ultimately Sipsmith, with Schweppes slimline tonic, lots of ice and a slice of lemon.

What do you owe your parents?

I owe them everything: from my ability to spell and understand basic grammar, to my absolute lack of any kind of financial understanding to writing thank you letters and saying please and thank you. Everything that make me, well, me. Plus several thousand quid in loaned dosh over the years that I never paid back.

To whom would you most like to say sorry, and why?

I’ve said my sorries (sorrys?) as I went along, but to my Mum, for being the most revolting teenager. To my Dad for answering back to practically everything he’s ever said to me. To my husband for scratching the car then saying it wasn’t me.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?

My husband.

What does love feel like?

Warm sun on a Mexican poolside.

What was the best kiss of your life?

I don’t know about the best, but the most memorable was the kiss at our wedding blessing on our 15th anniversary. Surrounded by our family and friends - everyone clapped and cheered. I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest, I was that happy.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

‘Ooh’. I’m a terrible ‘ooh’er. And ‘shit’. I’ve an appalling potty mouth, too.

What is the worst job you’ve done?

How much time have you got? I’ve been a secretary, an apprentice hairdresser (for about a week), worked in a shop, cooked in a pub, temped in about a million places… Probably for sheer subject matter, and occasional horror, the worst was the police. However, it was also the most exciting and fulfilling too. Go figure.

If you could edit your past, what would you change?

My first marriage. Idiotically young and criminally expensive for my poor parents. It didn’t last a year.

What is the closest you’ve come to death?

As far as I know I’ve always been very lucky - never even broken a bone. Of course, I could have unwittingly just stepped aside as a fridge fell from a tall building behind me, or bent to pick up a coin just as a stray bullet whistled past my head… but I guess I’ll ever know.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Apart from having my children, which was hardly an ‘achievement’, I’d say this blog. It has taken me to amazing places, brought me incredible opportunities and created life long friendships. I’m very proud of it.

When did you last cry, and why?

Reading an email from my Mum when she said ‘no-one has ever, or ever will, criticise you while I stand!! Go with your heart‘. I blubbed like a girl.

How do you relax?

There’s generally gin involved… and cake.

What single thing would improve the quality of your life?

Having all my family in one place.

What is the most important lesson life has taught you?

Don’t write it down. If you’re angry or upset, don’t write it. Talk to the person face to face. The written word can come back to haunt you.

Tag you’re it!

I’d like to pass these questions on to my lovely cousin, Moon and the most gorgeous Eriiiica seeing as she tagged me recently and I didn’t do it *cough*.

Salted caramel double chocolate cupcakes (what? I eat in a crisis)

So after all the emotional turmoil of Monday’s blog post (thank you, from the bottom of my heart, if you took the time to comment), my thoughts obviously turned to cakey buns. What I needed was some serious yummage. Stat.

Firstly, a little admission: they went wrong. Oh yes, spectacularly so. What I intended was a soft chocolate spongey muffin, topped with a dollop of salted caramel and enveloped in a gorgeous piped swirl of chocolatey meringue icing.

Sadly, my meringue icing ended up looking like a large pile of gritty snot in the bottom of the KitchenAid.

Ah well, onwards and upwards. I whipped up some ganache, dolloped it on and it was just as good. Just don’t ask me to make meringue icing EVER again. Mkay?

For the muffins, then, you’ll need:

200g chocolate, melted (half of this is for the ganache)

170g butter, room temp

150g caster sugar

3 eggs

150g self raising flour

1 heaped tbsp cocoa powder

Basically, just cream the butter and sugar together until it’s really light and fluffy. Mix the eggs gently with a fork, then dribble them slowly, a bit at a time, into the mixture until they’re all combined. I find sometimes that if you lob in a whole egg it can curdle the mixture (although, this can be rescued with a spoonful of flour, admittedly).

Now stir in the flour and sifted cocoa, then fold in half of the melted chocolate. Dollop a tablespoon of mixture into each of 12 muffin cups placed into a muffin tin and bake at 180/gas 4 for about 20 minutes or until just springy to the touch.

For the ganache, you’ll find the recipe here.

When the cakes are cool, dollop a teaspoonful of Marks and Spencer’s quite delightful salted caramel sauce (an extortionate 4 Euro a pop - no wonder I felt the need to use it up), then cover with a blob of your cooled ganache (feel free to pipe it - I’d lost the will to live by this stage).

Stuff into face, sighing gently and pondering the meaning of life, the universe and everything. A cup of tea can help too (it was too early for gin).

And… breathe.

In which our hero wonders exactly where home is

I am sad, dearest reader. Confused and sad. This is unlike me. I am usually happy. In fact, I’m usually so happy and perky that I verge on the irritating. I suspect some people close to me have to rein in their slap reflex when I’m in full happy.

But everything seems bad at the moment. There is a dark cloud hovering over English Towers that just won’t shift.

The Death Wish Child is unhappy. This is not like him. He’s perky too (I wonder where he gets it from?) - a ray of sunshine who brightens any room. Our very own Mr Blue Sky. But he misses his mates in England and, try as he might, just hasn’t really settled here. He’s a livewire - he’s sporty and outdoorsy - but they only have one PE lesson a week. Plus, he misses the skatepark. He’s hard wired to hurl himself around in a dangerous fashion (the clue’s in the name). He doesn’t feel quite right unless he’s a bit bruised. He is constantly glued to Facebook, talking to his English mates and making himself even more homesick.

Our recent trip back home made him - well, all of us, a little sadder than before.

‘Maybe he just needs to be active?’, said P, the lovely hubby of Poppy’s Mum. ’Get him down the GAA, that’ll sort him out’. But they shout at you a lot at the GAA, it’s just not his bag - he’s a laid back dude. And at the latest game, one of the lads said to him ‘I don’t pass to English people’. Another sneered ‘you don’t belong here’. Thanks fellas. Another nail in the coffin.

English Dad is mostly in England. There’s no work in Ireland and he rarely gets back to see us. This is hard. I’m not cut out to be a single mum. I need family: hugs and banter, long, drawn-out mealtimes, clinking glasses and laughter. Solitary evenings with a glass of wine in front of CSI just don’t do it for me. As hard as I try.

I love this house. This is our dream house. I love the garden… the interior that we spent happy hours choosing: my gorgeous kitchen, the fabulous fireplace… my dream oven… the chickens rootling in the garden… everything perfect.

But is it just a house? Did I make a mistake bringing my family back here because I missed it? I was worried about them growing up attending a big Comprehensive school - maybe mixing with the wrong sort of people… Should I have given them more credit? We thought it would be fine… was I wrong?

The Mad Professor wants to go home too. The lure of the Sixth Form is strong - he can do ‘all that nerdy shit’ that he loves: Maths with Mechanics… Physics… Over here, you do the same subjects for Leaving Cert as you do at Junior Cert - everything. It’s not for him. He’s got his future mapped out. England’s the place to be.

And me? I miss my family. I love my brothers. I want to be with my parents. The recent trip to the Albert Hall was classic Disreputable Dad. The Mad Professor was limping in a ridiculously flamboyant fashion after twisting his ankle at his cousin’s (miraculously, it was completely healed the next day). Trying to bag a taxi in London when you’ve got a teenager limping like Jake the Peg isn’t easy. I got cross. The DD got cross with me. There was swearing. But there was silliness too. And flag waving. Food and wine and laughter. I miss all of it. (Yes, even the swearing).

My mum comes to visit. But it’s not the same as popping in and saying hi, sharing tea, swapping recipes, going shopping…

‘Sometimes you have to try something, after trying something else (!) to find out it doesn’t suit everyone’, said my friend Foxy sagely. She noticed that I wasn’t as ‘ebullient’ (great word, by the way, Fox) as usual, during our recent trip. And she’s right.

‘Home is where the heart is’ is a confusing phrase. English Towers will always be our home - happy memories abound here: family Christmases, visits from friends, sunny wanders down the boat road…

But when everyone spends every day missing people they love… wanting different things? Is it time to call it a day?

Review: Nip+Fab Clean Fix

My initial thoughts on this product were:

1: ‘Uh oh, oil. This is going to go everywhere’

2: ‘Ooh, that pretty minty colour matches the little coloured stones embedded in my bathroom tiles’.

Happily, the first thought turned out to be an unfounded worry. Although it’s an oil, it’s smooth and silky (and more importantly, water-soluble), so no greasy oil slicks on the sink.

The second one, I’m delighted to tell you, is spot on - a perfect match.

Aesthetics aside, this is a fabulous product. Not only does it smell divine, one little pump of oil spreads smoothly over your skin, melting away make-up without drying (or rubbing, more importantly for us wrinkle-phobics), only to disappear instantly with a splash of water. My eyes didn’t run (an ongoing problem - I never used to be sensitive to anything) and my skin was left plump and soft.

I’m in love. Send me more.

Nip + Fab Clean Fix £10.25 - available from Boots and online

Carrot Kheer - Anjum Anand’s Mothers’ Day recipe

Hope all you mummy-types out there are getting your feet massaged on the sofa and getting breakfast in bed, etc.

I saw this lovely recipe from Anjum Anand (I LOVE her - I think she’s actually got a new book coming out soon). She was talking about the fact that she made this with her mum, and now makes it with her daughter, which is exactly how cooking should be.

It’s really difficult to find a dessert to go with Indian food, and this one sounds like it could be a winner.

Anjum says ‘carrot kheer is a light, cold pudding made only with milk, carrots, sugar and almonds but this deceptively simple sounding dessert is a most refreshing and flavourful end to a warm, savoury meal. It is my all time favourite Indian pudding and I would urge my mother to make this whenever she had people coming around, mainly in the spring and summer months. I would then get busy helping my mother in the kitchen, it wasn’t a particularly important job, peeling and grating the carrots, but I enjoyed cooking and felt important when my mother would tell her friends that I made it with her.’

What a perfect recipe for Mother’s Day. I’m determined to give it a go now. Carrots for pudding, anyone?

Carrot Kheer

Serves 6

1 litre full-fat milk

250g carrots, peeled and grated

3–4 tbsp sugar

Good pinch of saffron strands

1⁄3–1⁄2 tsp green cardamom seeds, powdered

2 tbsp pistachios, chopped

2 tbsp flaked almonds, toasted

Caramelized pine nuts, to serve

Heat the milk in a wide, heavy-based saucepan, stirring and scraping the base with the spoon frequently to make sure the milk does not catch and burn. If you are standing at the cooker you can increase the heat and stir constantly, but if you are busy in the kitchen (please do not stray too far!) keep it on a low heat. Keep cooking until it reduces by about one third – this takes about 25 minutes depending on your pan and heat.

Add the carrots and continue cooking for another 15–25 minutes or until they are soft and the milk is as thick as you like it. This is a personal thing – I like it quite thin but others like it quite thick; you will need to keep up the stirring though. Stir in the sugar, saffron and cardamom powder, cook for another 2 minutes and taste for sweetness. Chilling any food dulls its sweetness, so you may need to add a little more than you would deem necessary. Cool and then place in the fridge, covered with clingfilm as milk absorbs flavours from other food in the fridge.

When ready to eat, serve in bowls sprinkled with the nuts.

The Friday photo: I’m the Innocent Queen of G doncherknow

So the lovely chaps at Innocent and I go way back. Remember when I got caught doing naughty things with their wonderful magnetic letters? Hmm, probably best if I don’t mention that…

This time, they asked me to pick a word (and therefore one of their new letters) that summed me up. Well, of course I went for G for GREEDY! My challenge was then to take a photo of my allocated letter. Here’s mine then, nestling amongst ginger, garlic and a sprinkle of garam masala. I think it looks rather fetching.

I got a whole new look for my fridge at the same time, too!

The new magnets are being given away in Innocent products now, so you can join in the fun here or follow them on Twitter @InnocentDrinks and see what everyone else came up with.

No rudies, now…