WHITE BEAN PECAN PUMPKIN BLONDIES

Some people can add to other people’s life like that, and bring gifts of photos of tiny kittens and rules of thirds and cool cameras (and, fix broken ones), or secret phone numbers and nuts for dinner and Egyptian bracelets and painful fashion advice, or puns and phone calls and carefully selected vegan ham-flavoured crisps, or the biggest smiles and fobs and doughnuts, or loud laughs, badly edited pictures of honey badgers, fancy iPhones and second-hand flirting, German experimental music playlists, Belle and Sebastian, instant email responses, birthday cards, tailored guidance on London boroughs (as night follows day wPeckhamwsavesw), haircuts worth four hundred bus rides, take-care's, espressos, inexplicable exceptions to the rule of never being touched, books that were meant for someone else, unrealistic tales of North-American wildlife, bags-for-life, thermals, sleeping pills, good-night’s; or (but you’ve got to be lucky like I am), even all of the above.

Now whether all these riches are deserved or not, or if I’d rather give things away than lose them, or again if I myself only am the bearer of utter annihilation (fine, of stuffed killer whales also; but only if you’re David Wilson), however consciously hidden behind a mask of cuteness, quirkiness and puppy eyes, it’s an entire different story; because today, on Matt’s birthday, cake is the only thing that I choose to bring along.

Adding fudgy pecan pumpkin blondies to someone’s life really can’t be a bad thing; plus when you and your cake tin are almost squeezed to death on your crammed bus to work, there’s just no room for all the bullshit.
Aaaand many more.

PEANUT PUMPKIN CREAM BISCUITS

It’s ever so tiring to play the part of the child prodigy for half a week and to dress up in rotation in all the different best versions of yourself that people kindly plan on turning you into (it must be on the top 5 list of mankind’s charity goals for 2015); especially when you have since the very start taken an oath to not wear leggings as trousers in the outside world, thanks for trying, and the only thing you can possibly share with Kim Kardashian is olaplex, because your hairdresser Sam is a star like that.

In such cases, the recommended course of action is as follows:

1) do pick one of these bragged-about best-version onesies to try on, even if it’s just in the fitting room. You’ll know which one you like best when it’s a smiley one (and when someone sings a song and you can sing along cause you remember the lyrics from your childhood);

2) partake in this special-child pantomime, fine; but only if you are rewarded with couscous, sticks of rock, peanuts and/or other types of valuable goods.

This point is least painful to follow if there is some sort of vague evidence of you actually being all prodigious like that – perhaps a metaphysical entity called Ninety-Nine Jam Jars; or just James;

which leads us to point number three:

3) keep writing humourous handover notes at work, as someone may read them on the train home and secretly smile; speak Italian; daydream about Canadian raw vegan restaurants and shoe shops between a sales training PowerPoint slide and the next; jump on a bus to Hackney like the old times just to get hold of a pack of peanut flour, to go join the other forty-five types of flour you already have in your cupboard (this also means you’re entitled to cake for dinner, and a decaf-almond-milk-latte-please, and some puzzled looks from the barista); sip coffee in the park and talk about dolphins whilst people dismantle the office; and bake. Bake some peanut pumpkin cream sandwich biscuits, because you woke up one morning to find that autumn was there, and got all inspired by a place you can’t wait to visit. They will also provide you with all the energy you need to make your best prodigy child impression. Tried and tested.

PUMPKIN SWIRL BROWNIES

I was trying to come up with a very descriptive way of presenting my new favourite pumpkin thing in the world right here but perhaps there’s no need to because PUMPKIN SWIRL BROWNIES.

<3.

PUMPKIN CINNAMON ROLLS

I came back from New York with 10 extra kilos of body fat, a spotty face, 10 litres of maple syrup and an obsession with all things pumpkin. In this recipe, you’ll find two of the above – that is, the maple syrup and pumpkin, if there’s any need for clarifying.

Weeeell, these moistest-ever-moist pumpkin cinnamon rolls with a super sticky maple glaze are such a mouth-watering twist on the traditional cinnamon rolls. It makes me a little bit emotional because my life is not the same now that I don’t have my pumpkin spice soya latte twice a day anymore and don’t see lines of pretty, pretty (massive) pumpkins in front of every house on every street.

Let’s just devour them celebrating my newfound friend America and by the way also that Adam got me this internet domain and my blog is all serious now (he is, oh, the best). And that today I chopped all my hair off (don’t ask). And lastly, that my friend Kris gave me the vegan bible as a present for my birthday. I’m making everything that’s in there. Omnom – tears of gratitude/melancholy – omnomnom – repeat.

ORANGE PUMPKIN CAKE

I don't usually get overexcited when it comes to cake (yeeeeh right hhaa), but everyone, I've made this orange pumpkin cake and it's aaaahhh so good with its syrupy orange glaaaaaze. Like, crazy good.
It might be because I get all emotional when autumn approaches, like it gets dark earlier and all that and I can use pumpkin and all these autumny flavours without feeling like I'm doing something illegal. And that I'm flying across the pond this week so I've been so excited to bake American cakey stuff.
Or none of the above and this is just the best cake on earth.
Who knows.
I love you cake.