It’s a tarty, sticky cake that is absolutely perfect for afternoon tea. It’s not fussy to make, and slightly heavier than a typical tea-cake, which makes it fantastic after a full day’s baking.

My camera work might leave much to be desired (and I did overcook it a smidgen), but trust me when I say that this cake is delicious. I only needed two lemons to make this, but I’d have a spare on hand. In advance, I have to apologise for the way I’ve shortened and hacked at the recipe. It’s something Papa Bear used to do when I was a kid and I’ve never seen the point in writing it any other way. I’ve adapted the recipe from Janae Monir, with much gratitude.

Lemon Yoghurt Cake

Ingredients:

Set A:

• 1½ cups plain flour
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• ½ teaspoon salt

Set B:

• 1 cup yoghurt (you could use Greek or Natural – I used a homemade Greek one)
• 1 cup sugar
• 3 eggs
• 2 teaspoons grated lemon zest (from approx. 2 lemons)
• ½ teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• ½ cup vegetable oil (sunflower preferably, as it’s milder)

Syrup:

• 1/3 cup sugar
• 1/3 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice

Glaze:

• 1 cup icing sugar
• 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

Method:

1. Start by preheating your oven to 180°C.  Grease and line a 9 x 5 loaf tin with baking paper.
2. Sift Set A ingredients into a small bowl.
3. Whisk Set B ingredients in a  large bowl until smooth. Slowly add the Set A ingredients and combine.
4. Pour the mixture into the loaf tin and bake for 50 mins or until an inserted skewer comes out clean.
5. Whilst you’re waiting for this delicious cake, make the syrup! Combine the sugar and lemon juice into small pan and heat gently until the sugar is dissolved and the lemon juice is clear. Set aside to cool.
6. When you’ve pulled out the cake, let it rest for ten minutes and use a skewer to poke holes into the top of the cake, pressing almost to the bottom.
7. Pour the syrup over the cake and let it sit for a few minutes. Some people recommend pulling the cake out first and putting it on a cake rack before  pouring the syrup over. I don’t, mainly because of the mess it would make!
8. At this point, if you want to make a glaze, combine the icing sugar and lemon juice and pour it over the top. You can, however, just dust it with the icing sugar.

At the risk of sounding like Nigella Lawson, enjoy with a cup of strong tea!

- E.

P.S. I’ve just made it a second time with store-bought yoghurt and it’s a much lighter cake. Not sure if it is coincidence or that our yoghurt is heavier than most. Let me know how it turns out if you make it!

So what do you think of the shop and the other rugs in the photos?

E was in another shop during part of this transaction and was asked by a young man if she could help him get to Australia. She said she was unable to help but that kind of thing always gets you thinking. He was young and articulate with especially good English which he was practising on her. We could see the discrimination that he and his fellow traders had to contend with in a country that is not theirs. This is a nation that has both great poverty and great riches and my guess is that he had the former and not the latter. And so I ask myself how I would feel in his situation and would I not also desire to go somewhere else? We are truly blessed to live in this country of ours.

On our way home from the souq we decided to stop at an Indian Resterant that Papa Bear had heard about. It was magnificent. We went in by the family entrance and were duly sent upstairs to the family section. The segregation still makes me shake my head. Anyway, we were shown into our enclosed booth. The food was wonderful and I think it will become a firm favorite every time I am here.

I love the way you have a buzzer to get your waiter to come to your booth and the way they ask if they can come in (I dont know what they think they are going to find when they enter but they often ask several times if they can come in which can be a bit frustrating!). I suppose from within the confines of a private booth, you can’t exactly catch the waiters eye, can you? And as I also learned the hard way … when you go to the toilet it’s a good idea to remember exactly which curtained-off room you came out of because, when you come back, you are faced with a sea of curtains and well, which one is mine? It’s not the done thing to barge into someone else’s booth wherein there will be women who may have removed their abayas. Some things you learn the hard way.

Another place we enjoyed going to was the High Tea served within the Globe Restaurant atop Faisaliyah Tower, one of the iconic landmarks of Riyadh. This is one of those things that everyone has to do once when in Riyadh. It was not segregated and women were allowed to take their abayas off if they wanted to (presumably because there are unlikely to be Mutaween lurking under the tables), but none of the Muslim women seemed to want to go further than taking off their face coverings, so we did as the locals did and left our abayas on. We noted that the food was elegant but not sensational and I mean, really, when ordering a tea in an expensive and famous restaurant, one hardly expects to get a tea bag (yes, it was!). Still, I think it was more about the experience than the cuisine. The restaurant is at the top of the building in the huge ball that you can see in the photo. Cool. The service, I must admit, was brilliant and the view was quite as good as it gets in Riyadh. We sat there and watched the sun go down over the city whilst eating little cakes and sandwiches. The only problem was the traffic on the way home but that’s another story.

M.

As promised, a picture of a trike.

During the night we had a sandstorm and I have woken up this morning to discover everything covered in a fine dust of sand. It was a little crazy going out this morning as the sand has made everything slippery. Some of the young men in the shopping centre thought it was cool to use the marble/tile floor to run and slide on. (Boys will be boys wherever they are.) It also makes the roads slippery and the bulldozers were out on the back road near the airport moving the sand off the bitumen. The bus driver also had to watch for escaped camels wandering on the road down near the camel souq. I suppose not much different really from cows getting out and on the road back home. Since the sandstorm everything really just looks like it needs a good wash down, but that’s not likely to happen around here.

Now to the issue of the Mutawa (plural: Mutaween). Who are they? Well, to quote Wikipedia :

“The mutaween . . . are government-authorized or government-recognized religious police (or clerical police) of Saudi Arabia. The Mutaween in Saudi Arabia are tasked with enforcing Sharia as defined by the government, specifically by the Committee for the Propagation of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice (CPVPV).” The Mutaween of the CPVPV consists of “more than 3,500 officers in addition to thousands of volunteers…often accompanied by a police escort.”

They have the power to arrest unrelated males and females caught socializing, anyone engaged in homosexual behaviour or prostitution;  to enforce Islamic dress-codes, and store closures during the prayer time. They enforce Muslim dietary laws, prohibit the consumption or sale of alcoholic beverages and pork, and seize banned consumer products and media regarded as anti-Islamic (such as CDs/DVDs of various Western musical groups, television shows and film which has insults on the Islamic law or Islam itself). Additionally, they actively prevent the practice or proselytizing of other religions within Saudi Arabia, where they are banned.“

So how has this effected E. and me? Well we’ve been obliged to wear an abaya when off the compound. Technically we don’t have to cover our hair as we are not Muslims but we carry scarves with us at all times. We are to carry our passports and ID with us when out as well. After I was here  for 2 weeks last year I felt that we wouldn’t have any trouble as I had never been bothered. Not so this time. This could be for any of the following three reasons:

1. E. was with me, so there was two blonde females walking around!
2. Some of the women say that the Mutaween have stepped up patrols which maybe due to the new Crown Prince, who is generally regarded as being more sympathetic to the religious police than his predecessor was.
3. E. and I were a little careless in where we went and how we conducted ourselves.

But towards the end of E’s stay we could spot one of these characters from at least 90 paces (they always have a beard don’t have the black headband on their gutra, the standard gentleman’s headress) and do a very quick diversion into the nearest shop, toilet or, at the very least, a different aisle in the supermarket. It’s best if you never make eye contact with one of them. I am told they can be bluffed if on their own, but if they are accompanied by a cop its best to do whatever you are told as they just might persuade the police officer to arrest you.

E’s first encounter was when we were tight on time to get back to the shopping bus. She wanted to get an Oud (a local musical instrument) for Himself (who’s a muso) so she went to the music store and I did a quick shop. I must admit I had reservations about separating but thought she should be okay in a large shopping centre. Nope. She was talking to the men in the shop who were putting her in touch with uncle so-and-so who knew so-and-so who should be able to help, but when she caught a taxi there get the taxi driver to call so-and-so because otherwise you would never be able to find it.

Anyway in walk the Mutawa. Now these guys weren’t just your run-of-the-mill religious police, these guys were definitely the heavies. They were dressed all in white and sporting multi-layered white gutras adorned with sacred writing in gold braid (no doubt  to identify them as men of deep humility!).  They had extra-long beards which also clearly marked them as being super pious. All of a sudden, in deep, booming voices they began yelling at some invisible person in the corner of  the shop. All E. could make out was that someone should cover up but it obviously wasn’t her they were addressing as they weren’t looking in her direction. They continued carrying on in louder and louder voices. She turned to the guy she was dealing with and asked him what was their problem? “You should cover up!” was the answer. She pulled her scarf on and after further rumblings they departed to continue their sacred duty by finding someone else to bellow at.

Hi, E. here! To be honest, the whole thing was more frustrating than scary. Maybe it’s being a white westerner, but I was quite cross that they weren’t looking in my direction when they were talking to me. They were large and impressive, but it just annoyed me that they wouldn’t look at me! I also felt a little annoyed at the young girl who was obviously having a good giggle at my expense in the shop opposite. To be honest, I may have been a bit rebellious and I whipped the scarf back off when they left the building. Oops!

The second incident that stands out was in hindsight so naive on our behalf that it defies logic! Papa Bear had organized a driver for the day who took us to the national museum and then we thought that we would go home via our favourite souq. It was just about prayer time so I suggested to E that we get something to eat and then, when prayer time was finished, we could purchase what we needed. We managed to find someone who would sell us a coffee and we hid at the back of chop chop square behind a pole.

When the call to pray started the whole square seemed to suddenly be filled with Mutawa. We kept shifting around this pole trying to remain out of sight and started worrying. We decided to move once everyone was in prayer to a less conspicuous spot. But they returned unexpectedly and we got caught. The young Mutawa who accosted us was very polite and we did our “Roman Holiday” impersonation and went swiftly back to the car. It’s so much easier when you have a male with you. A couple of days later, Papa Bear took us back to our souq and we discovered the full extent of our screw up! What we hadn’t realized at the time was that we had chosen to have our coffees sitting outside ‘The National Headquarters of the Committee for the Propagation of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice’, which kind of explains why there were so many Mutaween scurrying about! Oops! Note to selves: Next time check your location before you pop out for a cuppa!

Now, as far as the abaya goes …

The best advice I have read is to make friends with it. And there are some good things about wearing an abaya:

1. No need to colour-coordinate clothes.
2. You dont have to iron what you have on, which makes getting ready in the morning a really fast procedure.
3. If you put on weight  no one notices your muffin top.
4. You can go out with very little on as long as you make sure that your abaya is one that doesn’t open up at the front but rather it is of the put-it-over-your-head variety since you don’t want it to accidentally open up on you.

Bad points:

1. For me, the abaya is a great way to break another ankle, constantly getting in the way and I seem to be always tripping up stairs.
2. It makes walking quickly rather difficult, although that could be because mine is more fitted than some. E. had one that was more flowing and she didnt have a problem. We swapped half way through her stay and then she struggled to walk quickly.

All in all they’re not so bad, but then, E. and I didnt have to wear the face covering like the locals do. I’m sure that must be a total nightmare. On the other hand, I suppose it also makes you completely anonymous and you can tut and hiss at foreign women who are without head coverings (as a local woman did to E.) and they dont know who you are. E. thought it was more offensive than the actions of the roaring Mutaween.

Well, that brings another epistle to a close. I’ll write more in a couple of days.

Maybe I’ll tell you about my beautiful new carpet and a plead for help E. received.

- M.

I (M) thought I would give you some insights into what it’s like living on an expat compound in Saudi Arabia and also what its like living in Saudi as a western woman. Some of this you will have heard this before from when I was here last time but those who weren’t on the mailing list for my previous (private) travel blogs may find it interesting.

The facilities on the compound are rather impressive. First, getting onto the compound is like getting into Fort Knox with its numerous road blocks and ID checks. Inside, it has  a number of sporting facilities like soccer grounds, squash and badminton courts and a volleyball court with a sand floor (presumably for simulated beach volleyball!), at least 15 outside pools and one 25m heated indoor pool. They have a large well-equipped gym and even a 6 lane bowling alley. There are 3 tennis courts and a ladies golf club although I’m not sure where they play, as I haven’t actually seen a golf course. If I were here a bit longer I would join the aqua aerobics classes. Some of the women have businesses that they run from their homes such as sports massage, dressmaking and all sorts of beauty therapies. They have a shopping complex which includes a small supermarket, video library, computer shop, hairdressers, travel agent, coffee shop etc. and the compound-dwellers have all sorts of clubs and social activities. I have even found a quilting club advertised.

Another thing I’ve noticed is how many of the women employ third world nationals as maids and nannies. I see them coming into the compound first thing in the morning when I’m on my way to the gym. The next thing you know they are taking the kids to the school on the compound and doing the shopping for their employers. Where were they when I needed them with 3 kids and a husband who was away a lot? I don’t think I could justify one now although it is rather tempting. Also some of the families have drivers for their wives or at least share one with another family. I can understand the necessity of this as life would be very limited without one, given that it is only men who are permitted to drive a vehicle within Saudi Arabia.

E. and I spent a lot of time going to the shopping centres travelling on the buses provided by the compound management so that the women can get around (albeit only to shopping malls and a few of the local souks, or marketplaces). The most important thing to do is to give the bus driver your mobile number so that, if you’re not present at departure time, they can call you to make sure you’re okay. This prevents them leaving you stranded at the mall or souq if you’re running a few minutes late. In this part of the world, it’s not a good idea to be left behind with no means to get home. You see, if you catch a cab home by yourself (which I’m told can be quiet dangerous) and you don’t have a letter from your husband granting his permission and the police pull you over, you can be charged with prostitution, an accusation that is stamped on every page of your passport, before you are deported from the country with no chance of ever gaining re-admission.

Once you’ve done the shopping, getting your goodies home can also be a chore. You push your trolley to the bus and load it into the luggage area at the back of the vehicle. It takes anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to get home. You then unload it and have to get it back to your apartment or villa. The compound is a mile square so that can be quite a hike with all the shopping. There are buses that go around the compound but they operate somewhat infrequently. The smart women have tricycles, with large baskets between the back two wheels, capable of holding a surprising amount of shopping, so they get their purchases home that way. I have decided to just keep the shopping down to essentials and do it every second day to make it easier. However, I think if I was to come over here permanently I would have to have one of those trikes!

In the shopping malls its both different and the same. They have the same shops as us. They even have Pumpkin Patch! You’d better know your size though, because there are no changerooms in any of the stores.If you are really desperate you can go to the change rooms in the womens toilets. E. and I decided not to bother and we have just bought shoes and bags. Not only that, but all the shop assistants are male (even in the women’s clothing outlets) which is a bit off-putting. I am told this is going to change as it is now classed as inappropriate for males to work in lingerie stores. Soon there will be more job opportunities for some of the women here.

When you purchase goods in stores (such as the local equivalent of Target) there are separate male and female lines to pay. And when you go to have a coffee or a meal you have to make sure there are family areas or you aren’t able to eat there (females and males that are family are able to eat together but single or unaccompanied males are not allowed in the family area and women are definitely not allowed in the male area). Most coffee shops have both areas but not all.  E. and I had our favourite places that we could get a coffee and feel reasonably comfortable. We have also been surprised at the impatience of the local women when we are around. They don’t like to be served after foreigners and will get quite bossy and loud to the shop assistance if they think we will be first. It’s easier just to let them go first and be patient. Funnily enough, the men seem to be capable of more patience than their women. Although that may have been because I had a tall young blond next to me (E.) — but that’s another story as to how some of the men coped with having her around.

Papa Bear is now in his 2 bedroom apartment and his old houseboy,Shamir, has come with him. He is from India and we have had a few discussions about the cricket. (He says the pitches in Australia are the problem at the moment. So there you go.) We are back to our usual standoff. I make the bed in the morning and tidy the place up. He comes around about 9am and I walk to the compound shopping centre and have a coffee, do any shopping for the day, and then come back to find that he has remade the bed and tidied everything to his standard. Hmmm. I’m trying to make things easy for him as he has a lot of work to do, but I’m not really sure I’m helping. He is so kind and brings extra water for me and extra towels everyday. All of which he doesn’t have to do. Papa Bear says that he hasn’t seen his family in 3 years and I just think that is so sad. Even sadder is the fact that he comes over here, gets free board and accommodation and gets paid around $100 a month. He works 7 days a week and still thinks that it’s a good deal. Evidently a lot of the people that work on the compound support whole villages in their home country! Oh, and I forgot to mention that Shamir organises Papa Bear’s washing and ironing to be done.

Hmm … I’ve gone on a bit so I will write more tomorrow. I think I will address the abaya and those irritating fellows known as the ‘Mattawa’. If I can I will also try and get a photo of one of the trikes.

- M.

We’re back! With camels!

Now, I know this is the installment Himself has been looking forward to, so let me get onto it without delay. We left Najd Village absolutely full to the brim, and spent the night sleeping it off.

The next day we awoke full of vigour and leapt into the car ready to go and explore the Old City. On the way there we passed the Camel Souq, which is by the side of a major road. I overheard someone today mentioning there are over 18,000 camels, but I’m pretty sure that’s made up. Still, there are a huge amount of the little guys, of all ages, lining the highway for about 3.5kms and looking very unimpressed with the world.

We pulled over so I could grab a couple of pics, and the camels were very curious as to who I was, and what I was holding in my hand.

Who are you?

What are you holding in your hand? Is it food?

Oh, it's a camera! Quick, profile darling!

About this time the owner started to come towards us, so I leapt back in the car before he could get upset with me for taking photos, or try to sell me a camel. (I may have taken him up on that – it would be a marvellous way to arrive at work!)

Then it was off to Old Dir’aiyah. This is an old part of Riyadh city that they are currently rebuilding as a tourist attraction. They’ve been slowly reconstructing it, although it appears they are using concrete blocks faced with stone rather than traditional method of mud and straw to build the houses.

Most of the city has been blocked off, so we had to make do looking through fences at the reconstruction. M. wasn’t satisfied with staying on the approved path, which won’t surprise anyone who knows her personally. To her, a tall fence, a guard and a ‘no entry’ sign is more of a suggestion, rather than law. So she insisted that we go up and along a dirt path to get closer.  However, that was where we were able to take the pictures below, and also where we found the well. (Which is possibly why we weren’t supposed to go down the track!)

I’ve just put some photos of the old city below for your perusal.

You can see the construction going on, and the red and white tape to keep us out.

Down an alleyway.

The city walls, which I think will eventually surround the city.

It is very pretty, isn't it?

There was absolutely no fencing or signs around this well whatsoever, which is very different to how things would be done in Aus. OHS would have a field day with this...

It sure beats our 'No Smoking' signs!

So as you can see, it really is going to be special when it’s finished. I’ll have to come back out and see it then.

Coming up next: The Shopping Trolley and how I fell foul of the Muttawa!

- E & M.

And the sand in the glass is right

Come on down, stop on by, hop a carpet and fly

To another Arabian night!

- Aladdin, Arabian Nights

Welcome back!

Last time we left off at the Deera Souq, and the beautiful wares we found there. Well, after the souq, we went to have lunch at a place called Najd Village. Najd is a traditional restaurant that serves fantastic food with huge portions. You are taken to a small, private curtained room and dine sitting on the floor, lounging against little armrests. Since the room is completely closed in the women are able to take off their headpieces to eat, which I think is a brilliant idea. Normally, they have to delicately lift the bottom of their face scarf and slip the food up in underneath, which sounds messy and difficult. So here, they can remove the scarf and eat with their family. The waiter lets you know before he comes in, so you can cover up again.

We started the meal with some traditional Arabic coffee and dates. The coffee was heavily combined with cardamom, which gave it a strong honey colour. The little piece of twig in the spout stops the seeds from being poured into your coffee, ingenious! It was strong and wonderful. 

We then ordered lunch. M. and Papa Bear have been here before with some friends and they ordered the meal for four. Apparently there was enough leftovers to last them a week. So we were very good and only ordered two mains, and some side dishes. We had this amazing beef and pepper stew, and a chicken dish with rice. Plus the Arabic version of tzaziki, and some tahini (which I managed to coat myself in within seconds, in the photo you can see I’ve begun the damage on the floor – it looks small, but I had it from head to toe!). Plus these huge bread puffs that had a cinnamon flavour and were delicious!

Of course there was only three of us, and we couldn’t finish it all, so they took it away and packaged it up. But, in a moment of weakness, we ordered dessert. Honey pancakes and date butter. Yum! They were sweet, but not overly so and the three that I managed to stuff down were just perfect. (Just to let you know, I didn’t make the mess in the picture. Our waiter did. After the tahini incident I am quick to point that out.)

We walked in, we waddled home.

We spent that night simply recovering from the huge amounts of food and continuing to get over the jetlag. The next morning, however, was off to the old city! But I might make that another post… (I promised Himself to get to the camels soon! I will, I promise!)

- E.

is very little, to be honest.

…there is a packet of crackers that are made with tapioca instead of prawn, which I am keen to try!

…there is decaf English Breakfast, which is lovely in the evenings. Not something I’ve seen in Australia.

…there is a packet of Weetbix, that as a good Aussie boy my Papa takes back with him when he’s home on holidays.

…there is a selection of pastries that a colleague’s wife made to welcome us. They were delicious, and in the mini croissants were chicken sausages (at least, I’m assuming they were chicken!). The others had a lovely aniseed flavour.

…  there is a can of cheese. I don’t think anyone is really convinced, to tell you the truth. Note how the seal is still on it. It’s not just me being a cheese snob, but I can’t see how you can can cheese.

…And there is this cookbook. Not one of my favourites, to be honest. It’s the sort of book where you read the recipes and think, “I could have figured that one out myself!” Ah well. 

Join the fun! Go to Celia’s blog at Fig Jam and Lime Cordial and share what’s in your kitchen! I hope it’s better stocked than this one. Stay tuned next month for “What We’ve Added to Papa Bear’s Saudi Arabian Kitchen!” (We can’t help ourselves.)

- E.

Where it’s flat and immense and the heat is intense

It’s babaric, but hey, it’s home…

- Aladdin, Arabian Nights

Greetings from the Middle East!

As some of you may know, Papa Bear is working over in Saudi Arabia and M. and I were given the opportunity to go over and visit him this month, so the next few blogs will be us sharing tales with you about what we have discovered and seen in the land that gave us, well, 1001 Nights and Other Arabian Tales!

We begin, obviously, with the flight over. The long, long flight over. We were travelling about 31hrs (not including the 3hrs to get to the airport, and the 2 hours spent waiting there) with a swift stop at Changi Airport, a brief we-didn’t-even-get-off-the-aeroplane stop in Columbo and then a long 7hr stint at Dubai. Now, of all the airports to be stopped in, Dubai is the one to go for. M. and I, stumbling around after very little sleep, had a bit of a look around and decided what we needed was a shower. More than anything.

Traveller’s Tip: If stuck in Dubai, find the elevators near the MAC store, go up to level 5 and go left until you see the health rooms. For $14US you can get yourself one of these for as long as your heart desires.

An beautiful and clean shower in Dubai.

With amenities!

We spent some time exploring Dubai airport, and while we were at it proved the adage: “It doesn’t matter where you go, there is always an Irish Pub.”

An Irish pub in the UAE. Of course!

After some duty free shopping, we hopped onto the final flight to Riyadh! In Saudi Arabia it is illegal to photograph any government building, or people without their permission. This somewhat limits what we can photograph and what we can put up on the blog, but trust me when I say the airport looks a bit like this, a sandy building in the middle of the desert. I know it’s ridiculous,  but I am amazed at how bare it is. Because of all the sandstorms, the buildings are the same colour as the sand, and so the whole place looks empty and sparse. It’s amazing and beautiful, somehow.

Day one we decided to go to Masmak Fort and Deera Square, known locally as Chop Chop square because on Friday they hold public executions there. It was a huge empty space and a little intimidating to know that some people live out their last moments here. It was also somewhat less dramatic than I assumed.

Chop Chop Square

Masmak Fort

We also went to check out one of the local souqs (markets) where we found the most amazing scarves, beautiful Turkish bowls and plates (which I will be getting later) and Persian rugs to weep over. M. grabbed herself a Janome sewing machine which, she was delighted and amused to discover, still uses cams for the patterns.

A shop in the Deera Souq, with an impressive title!

I think that will have to end our first tale, but we will continue the story in the next day or two. The next episode will involve Najd Village, the Old City, the shopping trolley and camels! Oh, and watch out for ‘In Papa Bear’s Kitchen’!

- M & E.

However, the building itself was just beautiful, and the tile work was Italian and, M. decided, the perfect design for a quilt.

But on to more important matters, such as the bread we made. We arrived to the most amazing little room, with a gorgeous woodfire oven in the background. Our teacher was a gentleman named Baker Bob, who looked exactly like a baker should. He reminded me of Curry and Rice from ‘The Magic Pudding’ by Norman Lindsay:

My first attempt at scones that actually worked. I was so proud!

M's beautifully shaped bread rolls that she was praised for, at length, by Bob.

My pizza dough, which we used half of to make...

A sweet apple and custard calzone!

And the pièce de résistance, sourdough bread, which tastes magnificent!

I have had a bit of a baking success, if I’m honest. I recently saw a blog post by Celia on a gentleman named David Lebovitz, and then a few weeks later saw that Joanna had mentioned him as well.

Being bored and trying desperately to get out of doing the report cards that were due, I looked up his blog.

Oh dear. Oh d-d-dear me, Pooh.

There aren’t many words for a discovery like this, so I’ll keep it short and sweet. I stumbled across his Madeleine recipe, made it, and they were magnificent!  I’ve has a couple of goes in the past, and although they were nice, I never knew what the fuss was all about.

David’s recipe (which, since I did not alter once skerrick, I will link to rather than re-post) included lemon zest, a delicious lemon glaze and, my favourite part, you whipped up the recipe and then left it in the fridge for a few hours, to bake just before people walked in the door. That is a recipe worth knowing!

I do acknowledge that mine did not turn out as magnificent as his, but I am just so pleased that I had a go, and got humpy madeleines first time! A bit overcooked, (mine were only baked for 7 mins before I had to pull them out, but I think that’s an oven issue) but I’m sure they’ll be perfect next time.

Not only does his blog give you the recipe, but it also has a lot of information about the Making Of, the Baking Powder Debate, How to Eyeball It, and Other Recipes.