What do Nigella Lawson, a White Chocolate, Coconut & Raspberry slice and I have in common? Other than we were all in my kitchen at the one time (one of Nigella's books that is, not the fabulous woman herself), absolutely nothing!
This mind-blowing discovery dawned on me last week when I was elbow deep in melted butter, white chocolate and descicated coconut, holding E in one hand while trying to pour the mixture into a slice pan with the other. As I attempted to spread it evenly across the pan, backwards and almost upside down, the mixture dripped down my arm and across the stylish pages of Nigella's classic cookbook How to be a Domestic Goddess.
'Sorry love.' I kept saying to her as more and more mixture fell on the book instead of the pan. 'It's all I can manage I'm afraid.'
I was working hard to create the tasty treat for our weekly Mother's Group get together, but I should have known when moths flew out of the open (and very old) Self-Raising Flour bag that my attempt to emulate Ms Lawson and wow all the other Yummy Mummy's with my home made decadent slice would not be a success.
It started a few hours earlier when I'd finally decided I'd attempt to make something. The slice seemed like the easiest option because I had most of the ingredients in the cupboard, sans white chocolate, but I knew I could duck into Coles quickly on the way home from taking Teach to school and have it ready for the 11.30am catch up. Easy.
After waking E from his comfy car slumber to race in and buy said chocolate, then wrestling him back in the car seat - all while singing 'Doin' It' by the lovely Justine Clarke so he'd grin along with me and forget I was pulling him from pillar to post - we arrived home with just enough time to get the ingredients mixed, in the pan, baked, then out the door again. Ok...Go!
I don't know what came over me or why I was so determined to make something. Anything. I wanted it to be interesting, a little different, yet completely delicious and satisfying. If the ladies uttered the words 'Bloody Marvellous' I wouldn't have been disappointed. But baking only makes me crumble under the pressure.
My last two attempts at baking desserts were miserable. I left the kitchen leaving a trail of nutt-meggy baking powder fluff in my wake. One cake sunk so much in the middle it could have passed as my Year Nine Geography Volcano Experiment.
This time though, I read the recipe several times before I started. I had everything pre-measured, weighed and ready on the kitchen counter, E was happily playing with his new truck in the living room and Nigella by my side.
'You can do this.' I said to myself. Hang on. What page number was it on again? D'oh!
After what felt like an eternity looking for the recipe (which was starting to induce a skin-of-the-teeth panic in me), my preparation went out the window when E decided he must sit between my legs, play with my toes and whinge if I moved my feet. The butter had melted so much in the microwave it was now boiling and the white chocolate had formed into a hard sludge in the pan. Bugger. Poo. Wee.
Why can't I ever bake anything?
I picked E up off the floor and was determined to start again. 11.30am start time be damned. I was NOT going to let a five step recipe beat me.
COME ON!
I managed to scrape all the ingredients together again, get it in the pan and bake it before we had to haul ourselves across town. The thought of showering and dressing up for the occassion had me spinning too, but we got there in the end.
E and I arrived dazzling, fresh faced, smiling and slice in hand. Eventually.
'Hi Sian. Hi E. Wow, did you bake that?' Our host asked. 'It looks lovely.'
'Thank you, yes.' I replied and looked down to see the gladwrap had started to melt over the still-warm slice.
Not thinking, I had just picked up the original baking pan, wrapped it up and ran to the car. I didn't even put the slice on a serving plate. SHIT!
I asked our host for a dish to serve up the slice and walked away from the kitchen thinking, 'That'll do Donkey. That'll do.'
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