I’m a bit of a Last-Minute-Kate. Whether for university essays, exam revision or just plain old form-filling, I’ve always had a tendency towards procrastination and prevarication in the face of deadlines. So the fact that I’m posting my entry three whole days before the deadline for Sugar High Friday #61 is something of a miracle! Please remember this and think kindly of me when I revert to type afterwards 😉
When I chose the theme for this month’s SHF, my thoughts turned immediately to my Mum’s orange trifle. Sweet and comforting, I’ve been known to make single portions for both myself and L when the evenings are long and dark and the rain is falling outside. However, as you can see, I’ve already written about this wonderful pudding at length for a previous SHF when the theme was Childhood Delights. Although I believe it’s impossible to overpraise my Mum’s trifle, perhaps submitting the same thing to two separate SHF events might have been overdoing it slightly …
And yet it’s remarkable how often a search for comfort leads to a trip down memory lane.
Way, way back in 1979, I was five years old and the proud owner of a two-wheeler Raleigh bicycle.
You can’t really see the bike in this photo, so you’ll have to believe me when I tell you that it was very shiny and very, very purple. I had also just succeeded in riding it without stabilizers when the photo was taken, which is why I’m looking very happy if somewhat chilly.
It was a few months after this photo when I set out with my Mum and my baby sister to take our dog for a walk. Naturally, I was full of beans and was allowed to ride my bike while my Mum pushed my sister in her big, heavy pram (yes, that’s my Dad in the photo and not my Mum, but you get the picture – just remember specifically that this pram was very big and very, very heavy).
After safely negotiating the one main road that ran down the length of our housing estate, we came to a network of footpaths that were a safe haven for wobbly five-year-old bike riders. I knew that our own circular route back home would lead eventually to an incredibly steep and long hill (by my five-year-old standards, anyway).
“I bet you can’t ride to the top of the hill without stopping,” my Mum challenged me.
“Bet you I can!” I countered as I pedalled furiously ahead, my chin set determinedly.
At the foot of the hill, the path curved around to begin its ascent. Suddenly, as I turned, my wheels slipped in some gravel and my bike careered sideways, tipping me to the ground. I slid a few yards through the gravel and fell awkwardly on my left arm.
Mum, dog and pram soon arrived at the scene of the disaster. My bike’s handlebars were twisted, my left arm hurt furiously and the shortest way home was up that hill. It wasn’t looking too good until Mum bribed me with the promise of a packet of sweets from the VG shop at the top. I gritted my teeth after that and somehow my Mum and I managed to push/carry/drag the heavy pram, the bent bike and the bemused dog all the way up the slope. I still have flashbulb memories of the struggle!
My Mum kept her word and bought a Cadbury’s Finger of Fudge for me as a reward for my bravery. It was just the sweet, sugary treat that I needed at that moment. Its soothing mix of melting chocolate and smooth, creamy fudginess successfully transported me away from the dull, throbbing pain in my left arm. Even today, the familiar jingle of the 1980s advert is enough to carry me back to that very day when I was comforted by a finger of fudge (and my Mum’s cuddles, of course … but the fudge does feature prominently in my memory!).
(Incidentally, did you notice the similarity between the Cadbury’s Fudge jingle and the Lincolnshire Poacher?)
A visit to the hospital later, it turned out that my arm had been broken in the fall. So, just to complete the story, here’s a picture of me looking quite enigmatic with a pot on my arm. I’m not sure what the grey shadow on the right is … the ghost of Christmas past, perhaps?
Although I can easily walk down into our village today and buy a finger of fudge in the local shop, I wanted to try to recreate this sweet comfort treat for myself at home. After all, I may need the recipe distressingly soon if even the very taste of this iconic chocolate bar becomes little more than a distant memory in a Kraft takeover of Cadbury …
Dissolve the sugar in the milk in a 4-5 pint saucepan. (This is the part I find the most difficult – it sounds so simple, but it always takes me forever to achieve (or not, as my many failures testify). This time, I used my fingers to stir the sugar, which seemed to help. I also transferred it several times into a clean pan when the sides seemed to be getting gummed up with sugar crystals – I probably lost a bit of the solution in the process, but I kept going regardless. And this is the best fudge I’ve ever made, so I couldn’t have done too much wrong … However you achieve it, just make sure that there are absolutely no sugar crystals left in the solution before you reach anywhere near boiling point).
Add the remaining ingredients and stir to incorporate.
Attach a candy thermometer to the side of the pan (the mixture didn’t reach up to the immersion point on mine at the start, but once again I carried on regardless – all turned out well when the mixture bubbled ferociously up the sides of the pan) and boil to 238 degrees F (soft ball stage). Stir the mixture from time to time as its temperature rises to prevent it from burning, but stop stirring as it reaches the soft ball stage.
Carefully stand the pan in a roasting dish filled with ice water to stop any further rise of temperature. Be careful not to knock the pan or stir the mixture at all. Leave it for 10 minutes or until the fudge has cooled to about 110 degrees F.
Here, the instructions say to beat until thick then turn out onto a board and knead until smooth. (In my own doubtlessly flawed attempt, I found the fudgy caramel thing to be far too sticky to beat, so I scraped it onto the work surface and pulled it about a bit with a bench scraper. I then gave up in frustration and left home to collect L and M from school. When I returned, I was astonished to find that the sloppy goo had actually started to set in a fudge-like manner in the centre of the flattened shape in which I had discarded it.)
Form into logs about an 1 1/2 inches long. (Think Play-Doh.)
Dip into melted chocolate and place on trays lined with baking parchment until dry.
When dry, break off the drippy bits of chocolate and give to small children in need of comfort.
I have to keep reminding myself that we’re in the middle of the summer holidays. Apart from during one brief, glorious spell of sunshine yesterday, the seas reflect the grey of the skies and our car boot is filled with waterproofs and wellies rather than swimsuits and suncream.
Perhaps the weather is to blame for the strange sightings of unidentified flying objects around our house these last few evenings. When three small children and one barely-grown-up adult are cooped up together during the day while the rain pours outside, it’s hardly surprising that weird gizmos rise to the surface eventually.
This particular flying floss machine had been stored (what do you mean, “hidden”?) under a bed for some time. Oh, it’s not that we didn’t appreciate the present, Aunty Lucy – really, honestly, truly, L thought it was the best present in the whole wide world. It’s just that … well … it’s a candyfloss maker! You know – candyfloss – that sticky, sickly, sticky, sticky, sticky stuff. Emphasis on sticky.
Well, I’m here today to tell anyone who has a candyfloss maker hidden under their bed: “It’s okay. H o n e s t l y.”
I take it all back. Not only is it the simplest thing in the world to clean, it doesn’t spread gobs of icky-hot sugar all over your kitchen walls and ceiling at all. At least, ours doesn’t. And even O has finally been won over by its charms (no, that doesn’t extend to his actually trying any of the stuff – it’s more in appreciation of the pleasure it gives to his sweeter-toothed offspring).
Look, it’s easy. You set it spinning around for a bit while it heats up and prepares for take-off …
… and then you scoop some granulated sugar (the manual was quite specific about that – ‘use ONLY granulated sugar’) into the middle.
After that, you set it spinning again and wait for the fine, gossamer strands to start appearing. Wind these onto a paper cone …
… and hand to someone with extremely high sugar tolerance levels.
Can you catch a candyfloss cloud on your tongue this summer?
Last weekend, I flew with T up to Newcastle to visit my parents and my Nan. O stayed behind in Devon with the girls. I think he probably drew the short straw in the whole arrangements as he was faced with the daunting prospect of … putting L’s hair into a bun for her ballet class on Saturday morning!
One of our favourite specialities of the North-East is Jesmona Black Bullets. When I was little, I just assumed that everyone knew about ‘Jesmona Blacks’. Small, hard, minty boiled sweets, they were a regular Christmastime gift in our family. It therefore came as a great surprise to me when I discovered that not only had my husband never come across them before, but also the entire population of the South of England was seemingly oblivious to these distinctive black and white tins of minty balls.
Since we were down to our last ‘Jesdomona’ (as L calls them), and since I bought a replacement tin during my all-too-brief trip up North at the weekend, I am hereby seeking to introduce Jesmona Blacks to a wider audience across the North-South divide.
And if anyone needs further convincing, then I must note that the tin has a multitude of uses besides being a smart storage container for the bullets. My skills in turning out cakes from loose-bottomed cake pans were greatly improved when I first thought to use a tall tin of Jesmona Black Bullets as a stand for the cake, allowing the sides of the hot pan to fall away from the loose bottom and down to the worktop. All things considered, I would certainly include a tin of Jesmona Blacks among my list of essential cake-making equipment!
Supermarket shopping with the girls in tow always has the potential to become a very expensive affair. Take yesterday, for example. Despite numerous advance reminders of the enormous bag of sweets we collected last Thursday (I blame Santa), our procession towards the bakery department prompted clamours for the chocolate-covered doughnuts on display there.
I muttered that we could make some. The girls wanted to know when. Later. When we get home? I sort of mumbled a bit, which they took to be a firm agreement.
That’s why we were all in a chocolatey, doughnutty, sticky mess when O arrived home from work yesterday evening. The girls were very happy with their doughnuts. T was very happy spreading chocolate, largely around his mouth as far as I could see, but considered the doughnuts themselves far too suspicious to attempt to eat. I’m sure he’ll change his mind about this in another year or so.
The recipe for the doughnuts was written on the packaging of my mini baked doughnut tin. It offers a delicious and simple alternative to recipes that call for deep-fat frying of the doughnuts, but does rely on your having the pans for this. Even although you’d be hard pushed to regard doughnuts as a healthy option, it does make me feel slightly better about myself as a Mum when I see my children tucking into doughnuts that have been plucked from the oven rather than from the greasy depths of a pan filled with hot cooking fat!
And so, in celebration of all things seasonal, I’d like to wish everyone extremely happy doughnuts 🙂 .
1 tbsp (1/2 oz) butter
225 g (8 oz) plain flour
1 tsp vanilla extract
175 g (6 oz) castor sugar
2 tsp baking powder
175 ml (6 fl oz) milk
2 large eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp salt
Preheat the oven to 160 degrees C (325 degrees F). Wipe the pan wells with a little cooking oil to prevent sticking.
Melt the butter in a small saucepan.
Combine the remaining ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Add the melted butter and stir thoroughly until the batter is smooth.
Pour the batter into the doughnut shapes, filling each no more than 3/4 full. Bake in the centre of the oven for 15 minutes (when tested with a skewer, the skewer should be clean). The doughnuts will come out easily if you carefully release the edges with the blade of a knife before attempting to pull them out of their wells.
Leave to cool, then decorate with chocolate sauce* and sprinkles.
* We make our current favourite chocolate sauce by melting 3 to 4 oz of chocolate together with a tablespoon of golden syrup, 1/2 oz of butter and 1 to 2 tablespoons of water.
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