Just feel it.

The Cake and Bake Show? Put simply – it rocked!

Rows upon rows of unnecessary plastic objects that normally I wouldn’t give a second look at now seemed to make perfect sense- if only they were in my kitchen. Oh, how you tempt me! And the crowds? Who’d ever have thought baking was so popular? Walking amongst the crowds I overhead perfectly unassuming people talk in fluent expertise about baking, and sugar crafting. It’s was like walking through Hogwarts- but with a higher calorie count. I was happier than a pig in buttercream. Irony of ironies my “goody bag” contained a box of Betty Crocker cupcake mix!

I had the pleasure of sitting in on a session with Monsieur Eric Lanlard, pâtissier de force. Working with Delicious magazine editor Lizzie Kamenetzky they gave some valued tips and tricks while rustling up a pecan pie to die for. I gotta’ get me some of that industrial strength “cookable” clingfilm. I will however endeavour to avoid the fate of my mother. Whilst blind baking tarts one day she decided to use cling wrap. All warnings were met with mumbled protestations of “sure it’ll be grand“…only to serve up a somewhat chewy apple tart shrouded in a rather caustic, acrid haze. I learned much of what to do in a kitchen from my mother, in fact I completely credit her for my culinary aptitude, but let’s be honest- I also learned a lot of what not to do.

The piéce de resistance came with meeting the guys from The Great British Bakeoff on Sunday. What a bunch of lovely people they were too! Talented, amiable and brimming with enthusiasm so much so it was impossible not to like them. Waves of people swarmed to have photos taken and brochures signed by them. They happily obliged with neither a complaint nor hesitation. I remember at one point the look of acute anguish on one of their faces as a girl stopped them in their tracks for an autograph- without a pen! Eventually one was found and the autograph signed…and still the baker smiled on.

Spending time with them it was easy to see how a show like GBBO has been taken to the nation’s heart (and further afield with GABO and GIBO). In a world bloated with boil in the bag talent shows, Bezza and co. provide us much welcome relief. This is empathy TV. It’s hard not to feel for these guys as they stare earnestly into the amber glow of the oven that can decide their fate. These aren’t people reeking of ignorant ambition. They’ve made it already in the world – teacher, psychologist, landscaper to name a few. All of them valid and credible careers. They stand there very real, very different and very talented each in their own right.

Meeting the guys made me realise that there’s no “black art” to baking. Sure you’ve got recipes and measurements, and the need to be exacting. But at the centre of it all there’s a passion. That steady heartbeat that’s there at the end of the day when you get home. No matter what your line of work, not matter what crap has gone down, no matter where you are, there’s that instinct that makes you want to get those bowls out, and frost that cupcake, knead that dough or bake that cake. That’s what the show has tapped into and that’s what these men and women show us every week. So Team GBBO whether you’re in, whether you’re out, whether you’re about to be eliminated or whether you’re the winner- I salute you.

My mother (when she wasn’t trying to gas us with plastic fumes) baked. She baked A LOT. The woman is responsible for my introduction to Mary Berry, as well as my abhorrence for Queen of Puddings. It’s from her I picked up that passion, to feel that heartbeat in the kitchen. Knowing when cream is on the cusp of curdling, or adding that “bit for the chef”- subtleties that are felt more than taught, glimmers at the corner of the eye. This post is dedicated to my Mum. It’s been a long time coming but without her I wouldn’t know a rolling pin from a sledge hammer. Without her there’d definitely be no Mr. Mom’s.

Some of The Great British Bake Off bakers L-R: Ali; Lucy; Frances; Glenn; Moi (not of GBBO); Kimberley; Howard.

Some of The Great British Bake Off bakers
L-R: Ali; Lucy; Frances; Glenn; Moi (not of GBBO); Kimberley; Howard.

*Many thanks to Glenn for the photograph and introducing me to everyone at the show.

And now my thoughts turn to upcoming events- our son’s birthday and Halloween. Our first with the kids so who knows what’s in store? But one thing is for certain there’ll be cupcakes involved!

In the meantime, “Remember Mom’s the word- that’s Mr. Mom’s!”

Mr. Mom

 

Times, they are a-changing

So by now we’ve pretty much settled into the new routine in our house. The kids are back at school and the last shred of my sanity has been saved. I’m back at my office day-job after a years adoption leave. Whilst the café trial run was successful, the practical implications were just too awkward. I’m chalking it up to being before it’s time. I’m still yearning for a career covered in buttercream and edible glitter, reeking of vanilla extract like some culinary show-diva, so my focus is on the on-line side of things for now. DH has gotten used to being woken up to the sound of the drill-like precision that is the school drop-off run. All in days work for a happy house surely.
People often raise an eyebrow when they find out we adopted two children. The eyebrows raise further when we mention we’ve moved house recently, and a little further still when conversation turns to my plans for Mr. Mom’s. Now that I’ve started back to my day-job, whilst trying to raise two kids, AND get a fledgling business off the ground their eyebrows positively fly off into oblivion, only to be replaced with a look of abject terror and confusion.
Sounds a lot I know. Don’t get me wrong- it is tiring. Also believe me when I say I would not be able I do this if it wasn’t for the support of DH. I’ve lost count of the times he’s arrived home to a kitchen full of sample bakes. “Not a problem”, I hear you say, except he doesn’t have a particularly sweet tooth. If I were making savoury muffins, oozing with cheese and umami goodness- now that would be another story altogether. Then there’s the massive dent that copious amounts of cupcake cases, plain flour and unsalted butter can make in one’s bank account. Thank goodness for patient husbands I say!
This week I’ve just had my first repeat order from a local restaurant. Some tweaks to be made but they ordered again. They ordered AGAIN! (Excuse me while I do a happy dance). I’m sure it’s more than just fate. The timely arrival of The Cake and Bake Show and Bake Off fervour allows for rather opportune tweeting of professionals to introduce myself and my wares to, and you know what? It seems to have paid off. Useful tips and wonderful banter from people interested in what I’m doing- and jolly nice people they are too! Slowly, like sugar reaching hard-ball stage, something is going on and word is spreading. The smell of “cupcakey” goodness is wafting from Mr. Mom’s Kitchen!
So the return to school not only warrants change for my little ones. My own daily routine is now shoe-horned full of activities- and you wonder where I get the inspiration for squeezing filling into my cupcakes from? Sure it’s been a learning curve. Tube delays are the enemy, and coffee has become my friend. Oh such a good friend!
But my KitchenAid even more so (yet another reason for me to be indebted to my DH). Without his rather choice selection of house-warming gift I don’t think I would have been so inspired to breathe life into Mr. Mom’s. In the past few weeks of immense change, the gentle growl of it’s motor has provided a steadfast reassurance. Between it and the warm oven they perform a homespun alchemy so that in no time there’s a bunch of comforting treats to chase away the days woes. I now get it when people say baking can be one of the best forms of relaxation. Call it therapy, call it cathartic, or just plain distraction, there is a calming feeling that comes from baking. The actions of weighing, melting, combining and folding ingredients all giving a sense of being grounded when your world might be tilting on its axis- even ever so slightly. But enough philosophical banter- this year’s Cake and Bake show looms on the horizon. I’ve shined my glasses, trained my quiff and brimming with enthusiasm I’ll follow the grimy District Line tracks to Earls Court like Dorothy on the Yellow Brick Road to the Emerald City. Hopefully I might see some of you there.

In the meantime, “Remember Mom’s the word – that’s Mr. Mom’s”.

Mr. Mom