RAW LEMON SWISS ROLL

Cake roll happens because of promises made to sunny people on sunny days; and because the shape of things to come is looking very swirly to say the least; but also because if swirly things (or stomach ache, or car crashes, and car-crash shaped cake) ever come your way, you've got to be ready and turn them around as best as you can; and it may take some serious multi-tasking, and you may have to improvise or momentarily hide piles and piles of stuff in your wardrobe or interrupt your Preacher episode half way through and your NutriBullet will perhaps struggle; but if you try and you're lucky enough, you may end up staring in excitement at delicious citrusy creamy things, and these delicious citrusy creamy things may well make you sunny inside a little.

GOLDEN BERRY & COCOA NIB OAT COOKIES

I did think for half a moment, I will admit, that the after-effects of Disgrace wouldn't involve much more than binge holiday-booking and a mildly emotional farewell to avocado on toast and snuslessness and the occasional life-wrecker text message gone m.i.a.; however, running out of book every half a week and forgetting, as one does, to leave the house for just under fifty-eight hours in a row and a surplus of coffee in my Lavazza tin and of exotic tea in my cupboard did eventually set off this little alarm bell in my head, as well as this tiny voice going, what’s it going to be then, eh; and as it turns out, what it's going to be for right now is a fair amount of waiting; for trips to happen, for books and parcels and books inside parcels, for cat-ction shots to get developed, and for the inspiration to face-the-outside-world-every-now-and-then-if-strictly-necessary to come find me; so if you see any adventures around, please do send them my way: I’ve got cookies.

HJÓNABANDSSÆLA - ICELANDIC OAT & RHUBARB CAKE

I wonder what it is exactly with me and holidays and wedding-themed cakes when I’m more of a babies-on-spikes kind of person and getting married feels like something that only exists in a galaxy far far away; however, there has been lots of planning and mis-planning and hard-effing-working around this Land of Ice lately, and it turns out that its inhabitants have this amazing thing that goes under the name of Happy Marriage Cake (that and arctic foxes, and little horses), and never mind the weddings, I could be unhappier, and I do have my chums (!) providing for videos of monkey cats, lifts through foggy towns at night, cake appreciation, moral support during IT crises, moral support during life crises, and emergency holidays, and I tend to cherish irony, and choose to believe in blessings in disguise (however: this weekend only, as an exception), and also look forward to seeing what my life-rebuilding session today will bring, and I hope a selected few of my allies will stick around for it; so here’s my own real delicious vegan version of the Icelandic oat and rhubarb Happy Marriage Cake, and for your reference, I may or may not end up legally marrying the thing.

PARKIN - YORKSHIRE GINGERBREAD CAKE

When you greatly dislike black treacle and have a moderate-to-high aversion to ginger you just have to question what you are doing with you life and why it is exactly that you sit on the kitchen floor for an hour and a half on a school night with your eyelids dying to call it a day and stare blankly at the oven waiting for a boatload of gingerbread cake to slowly take its shape (and that’s without even taking into consideration a prequel of flapjack incidents and ingredient crises and creativity crises and identity crises, the prospect of a cooling time a stone’s throw to eternity, four entire moons before you even get to slice the thing – it’s got to be STICKY, and the sudden urge to sack it all off and never mind the tooth decay, peacefully suck on the container of golden syrup that is invitingly sitting in front of you like you do on a baby’s bottle).

I don’t think I can find an answer to these questions and I most definitely don’t need a slab of vegan Parkin to come to the conclusion that I don’t know what I’m doing with my life; but what I do know is that as soon as I munched my way through the first of one too many squares of this soft spongy cake, this revelation made its sticky way to me – that catastrophes are source of the best stories; that solitude leads to adventures, bear-shaped brioche buns and good night’s sleep; that nine-to-five jobs cater for sunshiny Daves and little lions (and sponsor phone calls to them), and film cameras for lifetime accomplices; and that if you tie yourself to someone’s balloon and let it go, just before it bursts you get to touch the clouds and they feel like candy floss. And that, if from horrid treacle and soapy ginger comes heavenly Parkin, there’s got to be room for hope.

MATRIMONIAL CAKE - CANADIAN DATE SQUARES

My return to Bad City left me with some serious time-and-space-perception issues, a heavy suitcase to carry without someone's help and this feeling of my brain being all wrapped up in cotton, like the one you find inside Canadian pill bottles (and it might in fact be there for the same exact reason that is, Google and common sense enlighten me, preventing breakage).
In the twilight of my return (the afterglow of sunset, or the first dim light of the morning, I wouldn't know. I am having breakfast for lunch, dinner and actual breakfast until I work out which is which), what I came back to find is that, be it in Bad City or by the breath-taking cliffs of the Pacific coast or along the sunniest Victoria bay or looking out the hotel window with the best Lost-in-Translation view of Vancouver, the heaviest thing you can possibly carry around in your suitcase is your mind.
What I also found, is that friendly drooly hairy cuddly mastiffs and marzipan tea and gallons and gallons of vanilla extract (like bringing back a litre of maple syrup doesn't also make me cry with joy) and Mickey Mouse plasters and Oreo crumbs and pumpkin-shaped candles and lovely lovely people who feed you oatmeal (and hug you), and hanging out by Police Museums and mortuaries and tiny art galleries on your birthday and drinking Shirley Temples at grown-up bars and vegan cupcakes and vegan cinnamon rolls (one too many) and vegan chocolate marshmallow pies and vegan Sailor Jerry Coke floats at Twin Peaks themed pubs and vegan everything and cream soda and root beer and Chinese gardens and red bean bubble tea and sushi at nutcase Japanese restaurants and being suspicious towards brown shoes and hated on by the raw vegans and searched by airport security for transporting life-size Mexican skulls in your hand bag; all this, and in fact more, makes it painless enough to carry all that weight down the escalators and on the tube for ages and finally all the way up two flights of stairs back home.
If at that point you also realise that your heart (and your brand new uber-cool hand-crafted birthday bag) doesn't feel all that heavy after all, head out again - you can be the bearer of gifts and snus and hang out at the Persian cafe and have your dates (I see a pattern there).
Now, we are soon to find out whether there will be any photographic evidence of all the aforementioned beauty I've seen (an excessive amount of tears has been shed already, not to worry) and it looks like there's not going to be any wedding taking place any time soon, soz for the ironic and/or misleading recipe theme. But you will still be all ready to make your own version of Matrimonial Cake, because it's mind-liftingly and heart-liftingly and suitcase-liftingly delicious like very few other things on this planet.
To celebrate Canada, and my success in carrying my heavy suitcase all the way there and back.

APPLE & BLACKBERRY CRUMBLE

When weeks are dangerously dull you need reminders of nice things that happen around you, namely

- cheap kids’ clothes

- bones from the 15^th century dug up at the back of your office

- gathering around said bones and staring at them in excitement for long periods of time

- sugar thermometers

- crumble.

As much as I’d like to share the first four items of the list with everyone, you probably have normal-size physiques and you don’t therefore fit into tops for fourteen-year-olds; the bones have sadly been moved for someone else’s eyes and excitement; and my new sugar thermometer has now become my most treasured possession joint winners with my blender, so back off.

I am however nice enough to contribute to the niceness of your week with the below recipe for the nicest crumble. There’s fresh summery fruit in it and a crunchy crumbly topping with oats and things plus a date caramel layer that makes everything so delicious and sweet and sweet things are the best and they improve the quality of your week (life?) a billion percent.

We can’t really complain after all.

CRANACHAN - SCOTTISH DESSERT

Strolling along the Clyde and finding cheap warm jumpers and cheap everything and the Necropolis covered in snow and flowers and plants and funny currencies and techno clubs and seriously fishy birthdays and the best food you can possibly imagine, and you kind of forget that it’s minus eight degrees and that you could die at any moment slipping on the icy streets and you can’t really understand what anyone says (although you still want to hug them and never let them go), Glasgow you’re pure dead brilliant and I salute you with some very Scottish vegan Cranachan. 
You shall see me again.

RAW JAMMIE DODGERS

I'm quite sure vegans all over the UK are forever thankful to Burton's for making (accidentally?) vegan Jammie Dodgers. Several parties and social situations must have been saved from wreckage by that one packet of Jammie Dodgers that lies unattended amongst trays of cheese and shortbread or whatever it is that people eat at parties here. How would I know. Anyway now I'm bringing Jammie Dodgers to the next level. These are vegan but also raw and gluten free and there's no possible excuse not to eat them. Unless you're like allergic to deliciousness. In which case, it may be worth the pain. Let me know.

SEEDY FRUITY FLAPJACKS

On Sunday I made muffins to take to work because I’m nice, but as I’m also forgetful I left them at home. Therefore yesterday I made flapjacks to take to work because I’m nice, and wasn’t on this occasion forgetful. Here they are in all their seedy fruity golden-syrupy goodness for all you nice people out there (and not-so-nice, I’m not here to judge). Gluten-free and everything, and so so easy to make.

BANANA OAT COOKIES

I promised myself that I wouldn’t bake as often during the week as I get home quite tired after work and I wake up quite early in the morning (you kind of grow old on the bus through the City at rush hour). But then, two things happened. Firstly, the two bananas I bought some day last week turned worryingly black. With worryingly black, I mean too black to be eaten by human beings, and possibly any creature populating the earth. But definitely not too black to use in baking (eeh, you see where this is getting). Secondly, this book arrived at the office and it was like Christmas. I hadn’t even got to the end of it and I already decided I had to bake something as soon as I got home. The conciseness of the ingredient lists saved me from a pit-stop at the corner shop and – oh joyful day – one recipe contained the sacred words “2 small, very ripe bananas”. Banana oat cookies, you are a blessing.