It’s okay, I told myself. So, I can’t sew – but I can bake. I’ll write some casual baking post just to show everyone that I can do SOMETHING!
Then the fire started:
You might say, ‘What kind of idiot rests her print out of the recipe on the hob and then turns the wrong ring on?’
I’d reply, ‘What kind of boyfriend hears a scream, races into the kitchen and bursts out laughing?’
I was grappling with the back door, furiously trying to prevent a repeat scene from Backdraft. You’d think my boyfriend’s first priority would be to shove me from the building, throw his body as a shield before mine, and sacrifice his life. Sadly, no. This is the 21st century, girlfriends. Equal rights, you know? He laughed. Long and hard.
So, look. Let’s put that behind us. This is a mean recipe. It’s a Delia Smith. The woman who put the word ‘comfort’ beside ‘food’ and made a living out of it. And dang, she knows how to write recipes.
This one’s really interesting. You have to sieve flour onto a sheet of baking parchment. Crazy!
Then you stir the wet with the chocolate and add the flour:
There’s a secret ingredient. Can you guess what it is:
Delia didn’t say anything about fire. She’s just so … pedestrian.
I’m baking this cake to take into the office tomorrow. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the work place it’s this: feed your colleagues. Then feed them some more. Preferably with sugar. They’ll love you for ever.
Just. Don’t. Set. Them. On. Fire.