Hudson's Cakes & the best book group idea EVER!

You know how I pretty much can't cook? How a lot of the cakes I make even turn into swampy disasters? How IKEA tends to surpass me in culinary wonder? Well, you can perhaps imagine how anxious I felt at the prospect of going along to Hudson's Cakes in Kreuzberg on Friday night to join them for the most brilliant book group idea I have come across yet..... Cook Book Book Group! Or Cook Book Club as they call it because it's easier to say after a few beers, 3 soups, a main course, 4 desserts & coffee.

Hudson's Bakery, yum, yum. British tea, cakes and other things (and what lovely lights!)

So the idea is that someone suggests a cook book, and you choose something to make from it, then bring it along at the allotted time, and everyone tries a little bit of everyone else's, and then you all talk about the cook book. Doesn't that sound like far more fun than just a regular book group? Especially as pretty much everyone in Berlin can cook better than me. The cook book club has been running for quite a few months, and myself and Sarah from workingberlinmum have fancied joining in but have never been able to make it before this one. And this one was a cracker. The theme was 'Childhood favourites'. So that's chips and Creamola Foam, right? (I know, you'll never have heard of Creamola Foam, but give your stomach ulcer a treat and go and order some off eBay right now! There's even all new Irn Bru flavour, but I'd recommend the classics - the lemonade one was terrific. I used to think that there might not be a single natural ingredient in Creamola Foam it was that amazing.But I bet that's all changed now, progress, huh!)

Remnants of the Cook Book Club feast alongside what might possibly be me & Sarah's breakfast next Thursday

Getting back on topic, in all seriousness, I struggled a bit with this topic. I used to prefer skipping and playing with Playmobil back in the day and left all the cooking and bill-paying sorts of things to my parents. And when I think of what we ate when I was a child, the meal that sticks in my mind the most was that rabbit that my mum tried to get us to eat, and that's not a fond memory. There seemed to be a awful lot of chops in those days too. Until I came to Germany I can't think of the last time I heard anyone say they were "having chops for their tea". Not that I am spending my days engrossed in German chop chat, but I know they're eating them cause I've seen them. (in the shops that is, not hanging out of the Berliner's mouths).

No evening is complete without coffee and some photos.

So I phoned my dad, who's in charge of the cooking in my mum and dad's house. It didn't used to be that way, my mum did almost all of the cooking when my dad was out at work, but when I think of my mum's cooking I think of (a) that rabbit, (b) chops, & (c) coming home from school for lunch which was either a banana sandwich or Heinz tomato soup and homemade pancakes. The last one seemed like a good choice but I don't think I can get Heinz tomato soup here. Schade!

So my dad suggested two things: his cheese soufflé which came from a recipe on a leaflet distributed in 1979 by the Egg Marketing Board. I love it, but it doesn't travel well on a longish ride on the U-Bahn, His other suggestion was broccoli & stilton soup. So I did that, except I used a Danish Blue cheese that turned out to be so overpowering, that I did the only thing possible and blamed my dad for it. Anyway, the whole evening was brilliant fun. We had tons to eat, and it worked out that we had a great balance of starters, mains and desserts to eat. Given that we didn't have much in the way of cook books to talk about, as most recipes came from mothers or other family members that had been passed on, we talked about a million other things instead. And it was all rather lovely and I'd very much like to go again! As a matter of fact, Sarah & I liked it so much that we're dropping by for breakfast later this week. Yum, yum, yum, though thankfully, we're not cooking.


If you are in Berlin you can find details of Hudson's Cakes & information about the Cook Book Club and other events they run on their Facebook Page

Let the celebrations commence!

5 is a magical age. To say it's been longed for is an understatement. And so, the celebrations have begun. Up at 6:30am, a frantic ripping off of paper, a quick, reluctant breakfast, dressed for school, and off! Then back home and time to play, rollerskate, fall, fall again, fall some more and nearly twist ankle, Skype the grandparents, and dinner, cake, and bed.

Is it just me, or does she suddenly look a year older? I think she does and she thinks this is marvellous, but if it happens to me too on my birthday next month I won't be happy.

Other people's birthdays take their toll on some people. It's hard when everyone else seems to have their birthday 'first'. Especially when you suspect that your sister has managed to sneak in two birthdays since your last one. It's enough to make you take to your (mother's) bed for a little sulk. - Not that he didn't fair well out of it. He is the owner of a terrifying pair of rollerskates too (remind me to ask my doctor to up my blood pressure medication).

But he did help make Orla's second birthday cake. Oh how I long for Tesco. I made a cake for her to take to school two nights ago, then another for her actual birthday for candle blowing out purposes, ad today I start making cakes for her birthday party tomorrow. I think I may have burnt the *actual* birthday cake because I was daydreaming about just handing over my cash to Tesco for something that takes much less effort and looks more professional.

And so, with that reminder, I must get on. There are rooms to be cleared, shopping to be done, balloons to be modelled, cakes to be made and decorated, brand new pirate outfits to be washed ALREADY, and apartments to be cleaned and decorated before tomorrow's big party. (And I might eat the rest of those Smarties)

Oh Fiona, is there nothing you can't do?

I blame Germany. Or Stevie. Or them both really. See normally I could do this. I am sure I could. But the evidence just isn't there, is it? You're not going to be putting in any orders for birthday cakes from me anytime soon. Frau Dietz sent me that link after my rainbow post which included the rather fabulous rainbow jelly on my other blog. But at least you can compare the two and have a good laugh. I certainly did. But it may have been slightly hysterical seeing as it was nearing midnight and I could see no end in sight that didn't include us all getting poisoned somehow by the amount of food colouring I was going to force us all to eat.

It was Hamish's birthday on Saturday and I really, really, wanted to make him that rainbow cake. Even though he wanted me to make him a Bob the Builder cake. I thought I knew better and he would be wowed by it's sheer utter amazing-ness. I also couldn't be bothered ordering coloured icing off the internet.I was just being lazy. So lazy in fact that I didn't actually read the recipe until the day I planned on making it, and then realised I needed gel food dyes. It's hard enough to get the ones I got, so I knew I had no chance of finding gel ones at my local supermarket. And that is why I blame Germany. I just can't get the things I need at short notice. (Ok, so I am also aware that my local Tesco doesn't carry gel food dyes, but they would at least get me out of this mess by selling me a Bob the Builder cake at 1am).

I had been so tired. Hamish was ill and just wanted to cling to me all the time, and Stevie wasn't being much help by being typically Stevie-ish and leaving everything to me, while he sauntered out to watch the tennis. And that is why I blame him. And Andy Murray. Because at least if all I had was a really dire looking blue shaded sponge that looked like the mildew had got to it, then I do know I wouldn't have made icing that sloppy, had it not been nearing 1am. God, I miss Tesco at 1am. It looks like I've thrown a bucket of chip fat at it. And seriously, I think I used about 4 blocks of butter and half a bag of sugar along with the 9 egg whites it required. (Though I used 10 because I reckoned I wasn't being very careful with them and had probably thrown at least one away when I was scooping out the stray yolks that escaped).

I could tell you that in the end it tasted delicious. That the appearance made no difference to my lovely big 3 year old boy (who says that he's actually just turned 7 if you care to ask). But by god. One bite could kill a diabetic it's so sweet and if it wasn't so funny, I could have been terribly hurt by the chanting of "But I don't want that cake! I want a Bob cake!!. That looks yucky!". So, while our insides rot from all the E numbers, and our tongues remain blue for at least another month, I will not be beaten! Just wait! One day I will master this. Or maybe I'll just move back to the UK and get him a Bob cake and enjoy my sleep.

Just don't analyse the state of my bookshelves, ok?

It's Stevie's birthday!
You could be forgiven for thinking he'd just turned 47.

But really he's much younger than that...

I made his 'work' birthday cake. [plain sponge, white chocolate buttercream icing & strawberries, in case you're wondering if that's just a tub of Lurpak spread across there].

His only stipulation was that it shouldn't be teddy-bear shaped.



Boo. To compensate I let the kids decorate his 'personal' birthday cake. Ah...that's much better!

Tell me something I don't know

Would you like an ice-cream?
No thanks, I'd better not.
Why is that then?
Oh, I have constipation.
The doctor said I shouldn't eat ice-cream.
Would you be allowed some vegetables?
Oh yes, that should be fine.

This is one of many 'two-people-having-a-casual-lunch' dialogues I got to act out today in German class. I also threw myself into the role of #1 woman suffering from diarrhea who can't eat cake, but can manage chocolate.

These situations made me laugh, not just because I couldn't help wondering if this might be typical lunch time chit-chat between friends and colleagues, or even patron and waiter, but because I have noticed that my class has a tendency to play out these dialogues in real life with strangers who happen to come out with random opening lines from previous dialogues we have practised to death. I'm sure the idea is that we could improvise with many other words of our own choosing, but when you've got constipation lodged in your mind it can be very difficult to stray from the script into something more original and perhaps more accurate.

The first time it happened we (as a class) were crossing the road at the end of a tea break and an unsuspecting stranger just happened to feed us the opening line from the #two hitchhikers meet and enjoy a roadside cigarette routine. Imagine their surprise when we all announced that yes, we all had a light, and enquired where they were off to. Luckily, the Korean's are all mad smokers so we didn't look like a complete bunch of crazies, but it was close.

I myself on being asked questions I can truely say I completely understand from start to finish, have been known to answer with unwarranted levels of enthusiasm, over really quite dull questions. Others have reported similar experiences where they have been asked the right questions by waiters. The trouble is when these moments occur we feel completely elated that we are hearing something and understanding it and even have an answer ready, and can respond without stumbling over our grammar and taking 2 minutes to answer. It's a wonderful feeling!

My birthday

It's my birthday. I got a teensy lie in after being out last night with my friends. Teensy, as Stevie my beloved had said 'Drink as much as you like and stay out as late as you want, because I won't play football so you can lie in and get a good sleep.' Then this morning 'Oh, the football manager called me last night and they really need me so I'm off to play football. You better get up.'

The morning passed in a sleepy, mildly hungover blur. We played in the garden, and I got to play with my new camera. The kids played on the trampoline and wanted in and out of it like yo-yo's and every time they got out I got a massive electric shock off of each of them. I'm starting to go right off that trampoline. I don't remember it ever producing so much static.

We rounded off the day by having a wee jig to some nice ceilidh music. The kids loved it! And now I think I shall rest.

The best things in life are 3 !!!

Hamish modelling the Disney Princess Wig

The Granny on the left is oozing positivity

Orla blowing out her candles on my patchy Mickey Mouse cake.
You can't buy them like that in Asda!

My lovely tantrum-throwing Orla turned three this weekend. We decided not to go mad on presents because we're moving and told everyone just to get small, light things. I think this was tough on the Uncles who always like to get her big toys, but it would be even tougher on them if they saw them on eBay a week later.

With both sets of grandparents down to visit we just had a small party. I was all set, I ordered my black icing in advance, and made a Mickey Mouse cake (as per client request) the night before. Sadly, I'm just never that organised and I didn't quite order enough, so the ears were quite bare, ha, ha! I rolled it as thin as I could, it was as thin as paper, but still just not quite enough. I would have disguised it by putting ribbon round it, but what with it being 11pm the night before the party, I just couldn't get my hands on any.

Stevie was dreading the weekend despite taking zero part in the organisation. He even took to his bed on the day of the party a bit like a character in a Bronte novel who has 'had a turn'. A good time was had by all, except perhaps by Frank, who sat/stood/roamed with his coat on the whole time as though he might do a runner at any moment. One day I will blog lots of Frank stories, but I fear it might have to be long after he is dead.

My mum was on fine, cheery form too. She gave me a heart-shaped locket which she said she was going to give me on my 40th, but was giving me it now 'because she probably wouldn't last that long'. It's only 4 years! She's 66 and doesn't seem at deaths door. You can't beat the positive thinking in my family. Should I start preparing Orla for the worst by saying "Sadly, Mamie's not going to make it to your 7th birthday"? "Mind you, she never made it to your 1st birthday either, but we won't hold it against her...much".