FRUITY PEBBLE BUNDT CAKE

The past too-many weeks have felt like drowning in a bowl of milk and cereal a little bit; and even though it was definitely a bowl of the most breathtakingly colourful cereal and sugary banana flavoured milk coming from a box with the coolest packaging, it has still felt like drowning after all; and the odd milkshake powder shopping and half a ray of sunlight and radioactive beigel feasts didn’t really do the trick as life rings entirely; but I’m finally off on adventure now; and before that: the most breathtakingly colorful sugary cereal cake.

MARZIPAN TEA BISCUITS

One dark, sad evening, in a little flat in a dear green place at the edges of Bad City, a pretty white mug shatters into a hundred pieces, and waves goodbye to this world never to be seen again. And from the back of a cupboard in the tiny kitchen of this little flat, behind glasses and pots and second-hand china, another mug, long forgotten, is brought back to light. This big colourful mug is painted with images of a place that is half a world away in space and time too; but memories of this remote island all of a sudden find their way to you on a shaky seaplane; and it is some sunny, placid memories of car rides along a promenade and there’s tall tall trees; and people smile at you and feed you nuts and chocolate, and take you to a house of leaves where you find jars and jars of toffee and vanilla and sweet marzipan tea.

Whenever I hear that everything happens for a reason, I secretly cringe with disdain; as there can’t possibly be a recommended daily intake of misfortune, never mind having a good 5-a-day of it; however, I must admit, catastrophes may cater for stories; and in this specific case, catastrophes do cater for very nice biscuits.

In loving memory of my white mug – July 2015-11^th March 2016

OREO CRUMB FUDGE

It's not for me to know when winter and its green wool jumper will grant us earthlings a half-time break; or when I'll find the words again, and sing the songs I should have sung; or when the scene will light up and I'll notice forgiveness at the side of the stage; but, strange to say, I'll be here waiting, with my comrades by my side; and I've made some comforting Oreo crumb fudge for us to nibble on, and put hazelnuts in it especially.

СМЕТАННИК - RUSSIAN SOUR CREAM CAKE

Season 8, Episode 11 of “Vegan cakes and things” takes us all the way to Russia via a stream of black, deep sleep, mustard shoes, bus travellers, gifts of corner shops, no-need-to-fight’s, Soviet nursery rhymes that come to you in your dreams and blenders melting down upon attempting to combine utter madness and the cure for the illness of living. One may argue there must have obviously been some miscommunication between my head and reality; but this sweet and light and fluffy multi-layer sour cream cake is real enough to me.

PEANUT BUTTER MILLET CHEESECAKE

Sometimes you find yourself facing one of those cheesecake situations; and sometimes bucketfuls of cashews, or Londonfuls of them, give you a stomach ache that makes you question your chances of survival, and you consider tofu instead, and remote islands, or give it a Japanese twist and go for seaweed powder and loss in translation, or perhaps yoghurt or coconut oil or frozen bananas or cauliflower or the Land of Oz; and the options are so many and the fear of the unset so unbearable and you’re almost tempted to sack it off altogether and sit on the kitchen counter and eat sprinkles on toast until further notice; and in the end you find yourself whipping up cheesecakes out of millet and dates and peanut butter just for practice, and when you head to the fridge and casually grab a slice and eat it, your surprise could almost equal that of a little kid whose flying house accidentally squashes a wicked witch to death, as, geographical metaphors aside, you come to the realisation you’ve just made the best cheesecake you’ve ever had, and it's fair to say you've had a few.

IRN-BRU BAKED DOUGHNUTS

In case of pitch darkness and lack of colour: plantain parties, Isabjhdffdgghfjkdottir, frog rescuing, Kings of the Rye, Deadpool, fizzy pop doughnuts.

MACAFAME - ITALIAN BREAD PUDDING

Gusts of the coldest winter wind this week exhumed, much unsurprisingly, a pile of nothingness, rainy days, insomnia and Star Wars bottled water and swept it and pushed it and dragged it right onto the doorstep, and even though it should be declared illegal in such cases to even think of leaving the bed unattended and opening the front door, you find yourself ungracefully climbing over them and making your way through the most unpleasant drizzle of rain and icy wet fog and nostalgia and don’t even bother with a brolly.

Truth to be known, the cold and darkness are here to stay at least for a while, and the memories they blew about, of one excited little kid that glimpses a foil-covered oven dish in their daddy’s hands in the warmth of their kitchen when he gets home, and there’s loads of your auntie’s famously delicious bread pudding in it - it would be nice if they did, but they won’t make the rain go away, nor the gloomy winter end any sooner, nor your eyes less inappropriately teary on your bus home in the evening; however, what may help is baking your own macafame, translated and tweaked and localised from your nonna’s original recipe (est. ca. 1946) (nonna > Mary Berry): between one mouthful and the other, you can try and get your head around the fact that this light and soft cake packed full of sultanas and pine nuts and so moist and delicious kind of brings you right back to when you’d stand in the rain just for a laugh and you wouldn’t hide away from the wind and you’d let it lift you up and drag you around and you’d think it’s the most amusing thing in the world.