Rosemary Loaf Cake by Princess

Princess has been baking.

She likes nothing more than to don her apron over her pyjamas and get mixing, squishing, licking and dolloping with her wooden spoon. As was evidenced this morning.

A friend had told me about a recipe for Rosemary Loaf Cake by Nigella Lawson so we decided to give it a go.


"Roll up your sleeves, give your hands a wash
With slippy dippy soap, Splish Splash Splosh.
Have you done your hands? Washed and dried.
Sleeves rolled up. Apron tied. 
What can you do? I can cook!"

Thank you Katy!

You will need:
300g plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
3 large eggs
200 castor sugar
250g unsalted butter, softened
1tsp vanilla extract
2tsp finely chopped rosemary needles
approx 4 tbsp milk
1-2 tbsp Rosemary sugar or castor sugar for sprinkling on top

And a loaf tin 23cm x 13cm x 7cm greased and lined.

Preheat over to 170c
Grease and line your loaf tin.
Cream butter until very soft (or until a little girl can stir it easily) then add the castor sugar and continue to cream together until pale and fluffy.

Sift flour, baking powder and salt together into a separate bowl. (More washing up but sadly necessary for the light fluffy cake. Also great for creating a flour cloud in your kitchen thus causing much hilarity for some and grrr factor for others).
Beat in 1 egg at a time adding a tbsp of flour mix with each egg. (Little girls are very good at this bit).
Add the vanilla and mix. (And lick the spoon).
Fold in the rest of the flour. (A little girl may not have the best technique for folding. She may create another flour cloud and beat the cake to death. Possibly).

Add the chopped rosemary and fold together. (Pinching fingers are great for adding the rosemary).
Add enough of the milk to get a soft dropping consistency. (Mixing milk in makes a great plopping sound and can splash milk up your arm, we have found).
Pour into the loaf tin and sprinkle with the additional sugar. (Pinching fingers again).
Cook for about an hour. Test to see if it ready by inserting a skewer into the cake. If it comes out clean it is cooked.

Leave to cool in the tin on a wire rack for as long as you can resist. (Not very long in our house. In fact not time enough for me to get a picture of the whole cake turned out).

And there you have it. Delicious.

Now then Katy, what was that song about washing up?

The Gallery - 3 Word Wednesday

Inspired by Simon Mayo, Tara over at Sticky Fingers set us an interesting Gallery challenge this week which had me deliberating over a multitude of possibilities. I had just about forced myself to come up with a short list when I felt the need to loosen my belt, face up to my greed and make a pledge. My "3 word wednesday" was lying there, next to me, empty, shaming me into submission:

Diet starts tomorrow *blushes*

Cracked It!

photo credit: The Guardian

It's only taken me 3 children and six years but I have finally cracked it!

What? What? I hear you ask.

Well, let me explain. Since The Big One was able to articulate his constant need for food, he has been doing just that.

Initially it would be in the form of "Whhahhh". Then came the "ugh ugh" stage. "More" soon followed and at some point manners were beaten in to him encouraged and we got "More please".

The premature milestone of teenage years (at the ripe old age of 5) gave us "I'm hungry" in a very long drawn out voice with pathetic intonations. Helpfully this was precisely the age when Princess started speaking and very quickly, looking adoringly up at her older, wiser brother, she too learnt to say "I'm hungry".

In itself none of this is really a problem. But when it's on a loop, all day, every day, often within minutes of finishing a meal, it does start to get slightly irksome. Alright, damn annoying.

But, today, at precisely 12.00 I sussed it. No more (okay, maybe less often) will I hear the "I'm hungry" cry.

How?

Simples. Feed them :-)

That is, feed them before they start whining.

At 10.30 this morning I popped into the newsagent and anticipating the "I'm hungry" (read: I am absolutely hypnotised by this splendid array of confectionery and I will self combust if I am not allowed to sample its delights) I bought them a chupa chups each thereby avoiding spending £1.20 on a couple of packets of smarties and instead parting with 24p. *punches air*

At 12.00, noticing a slight air of irritability, I forged ahead and prepared a platter of fine sandwiches, olives  and crisps with a side dish of silent praise.

And at 13.00 noticing that noone had asked for any pudding (a meal ritual even after breakfast) I produced fresh apricots that got smiles all round.

So the scores on the doors today are:

Kids: nil point - Mummy: she rocks.

I thank you x