First up, an apology. No, let’s make that an explanation. (Coz this is no way to make a good first impression, Amy!) The title of this blog... I’m not seriously suggesting the ramblings and recipes I would like to share with you on here are a sure-fire way of eliciting a marriage proposal. That there’s some sort of magic Shepherd’s Pie method out there only I possess the secret to that’ll make a man drop down on one knee and whip out a diamond ring. That would be madness, even for me. So this isn’t one of those God-awful guides written by some uptight New Yorker instructing you ‘How To Marry A Man By Being Anybody But Yourself And Never, Ever – EVER! – Calling Him’ (or similarly depressing title). Promise.
No. The concept for this blog came when I found myself one Saturday, for no particular reason, whiling away the morning baking a massive key lime pie with meringue on top as seen on The Hairy Bikers’ ‘Mums Know Best’ show. Now, I have no business baking a pie of such proportions. Why? Well, because I am single and childless. I am fast-approaching 30 and, according to my doctor, am on the “upper end” of a medically normal weight. I live in a flat in London with a girl the size of my thigh who survives on nothing but Alpen bars and fat-free yoghurt. I consider cooking for three when my brother and I return home to my mum’s a real treat and sufficient grounds for a feast, consequently cooking enough grub to feed an army to feed my addiction.
Yep, I love – love – cooking. Proper cooking. I wish I could get excited about salads, sushi and nourishing Thai stuff, but I can’t. What does it for me is what I would consider good, old-fashioned British dishes – those staples, the childhood favourites and home-comforts, that come with gravy or custard. Roasts. Pies. Mash. Picnics. Scones. Puddings. Cakes. Stuff my mum and my granny taught me. Made with butter – the more the merrier.
And I suppose because these recipes and cooking rites of passage remind me of family, of cooking en masse and happy times, I can’t help but get swept away with fantasies of my future family. There’s no fighting it... The sizzle of steak and there I am, wondering how my hubby will like his (rare, btw – he’s no wuss). As I cream together butter and sugar to bake a cake? Children, of course. Two of ‘em, a boy and a girl – far more appropriate recipients of my cakey-cakes than me, myself and I. As I removed my key lime pie from the oven, there I was with those Hairy Beasts, Dave and Si, showing the world what a first-frikkin-rate wife I was. Sad? Yes. Very.
See, I do find this silly and slightly shameful – I aspire to far more than simply being someone’s wife, the 2.4 children, a mortgage on a semi-detached house somewhere in Kent and a people-carrier in the drive. As will become abundantly clear if you stick around, I’m worse than useless when it comes to men and relationships. And besides, I’m from a broken home – it’s only going to end in divorce anyway. Oh, and I can’t stand kids (though I hope I’ll eventually grow fond of my own)... But, by God, there are times when I’d gladly sell my soul to the devil to be shacked up for the rest of my days with a decent, dependable shag, a Smeg fridge, the full-set of Le Creuset cookware and an excuse to consume raw cake mixture on a regular basis (ie, children). It’s complicated. I’ve been single too long, maybe. Who knows what I want? Not me. So it’s just that – a fantasy, as frivolous and far-off as my plans for spending my lottery winnings or making my Oscar acceptance speech.
But you can see why a love of this kind of cooking causes a single girl such as myself a problem, right?! I’ve made a Battenberg cake, for fuck’s sake! Marzipan and all. I hoard recipes I’d never dare make, knowing they’d go to waste or, more probably, straight to my waist. Batches of gingerbread men, for example, or buckets of homemade jam – I drool over them like they’re food porn. Alas, I have no one to cook for! So I thought writing about it would be therapeutic and fun.
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin...
Next post: recipe and conclusion...
FYI, the plan here is to post the start of a story on the Monday and the recipe and conclusion on a Thursday. And it's probably worth pointing out that the rest are stories rather than me just explaining myself, as per this first post. I'm a blog virgin, so bear with me!
Oh, and a huge thanks to Bex for the first of many fabulous illustrations – you can follow her blog, Bex Thorts, by clicking here.
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