Bad Food Bake Off - Poke Cake

It's no secret that I have a serious Pinterest habit, I love it. I pin all sort of things, and one thing I pin are recipes. Nothing annoys me more than seeing a really lovely looking finished article then discovering the main ingredient is a packet mix. Much to my delight my fellow Pinterest addict Tattooed Mummy feels the same way.

However when the aforementioned Tattooed one started sending me pin after pin of revolting recipes I knew desperate action was required. We had to make one.

I chose "poke cake" as it just appealed to my over developed sense of kitsch. I also (don't judge me) had the "fixings" (I daren't call them ingredients) in the house. I had to ammend the recipe as it called for cheesecake pudding mix and all I had knocking about was vanilla pudding mix. As a compromise I made a cream cheese frosting. I shan't replicate the recipe as you can find it here

So here are the ingredients, nice and simple. I happened to have the Red Velvet cake mix in the cupboard. Don't ask me why I just did ok? The pudding mix was a Christmas gift from my mother in law who lives in Germany.

Mixing the cake with some electric help. Not even my 4 year old would go near poke cake.

The batter happily sitting in its little dish.

When it comes out of the oven you poke holes in it and let it cool a little.

Meanwhile you make the custard.

Pour it on top of the poke cake and let it sit in fridge to firm up

Then top it with frosting. Now I was good and made my own from scratch. What you should really do is use Cool Whip or other frozen cream frosting which sadly is unobtainabe easily in the UK.

There the finished article!

Verdict: Do not be tempted to make this. I am the sweet tooth queen and I couldn't eat it. My husband, perversely, did like it, and my 4 year old wouldn't touch it.

Nothing beats home made cake, but poke cake isn't even the work of the devil, it's worse than that.

It's the work of multnationals who try to convince us that cake making is hard, that we need help. It isn't and we don't.

The Tattooed One has a linky. Find a recipe, make it, blog it and link it!

I Should Be so Lucky

I was in Starbucks today. Tired and a bit grumpy, its the end of my working week and I decided I deserved a coffee. They have a policy of taking names. I really should just lie and call myself Anna or something, or Eric. No too late. "Kylie" I said.

The young, hip dude started to giggle "Really? Oh I love her so much, she's awesome". I smile thinking "look here smartarse just give me my coffee and no one gets hurt", waiting for the next line. Yep not to disappoint laughing boy says "oh do you wear the gold hot pants too?", giggling at the absurdity.

Yes, clearly, mate. My size 20-22 rear end just looks fantastic in hotpants not to mention my thighs that can be seen from the International Space Station and mistaken for the surface of the moon.

All I share with Ms Minogue is a name and an Aussie accent. We don't share a wardrobe. Sadly we don't share men either.

Growing up noone was called Kylie. There were no famous ones. Then in my teen years "she" appeared. Now what you have to remember is that when Kylie first appeared she wasn't the cool gay icon hanging off Michael Hutchence's arm or singing duets with Nick Cave. She was a dag. The singing budgie.  With impossibly curly hair and dodgy choices in boyfriends (Jason anyone) and hair dos.When I first started working at a call centre everyone thought it was just hilarious my first manager was, of course, called Jason. It could only happen to me! He was also disappointed that I didn't look amazing in hotpants (no I didn't try)

I'm not overly bothered about my size. I have had lovely boyfriends and husbands (yep I'm on Mr Kykaree number 2). I've been pretty lucky to have been blessed with curves. I've fought my size, I've dieted, I've exercised, I've loathed my body, some days I still do. But other people seem to like it, and I'm just me. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't the shape I am.

However I am not defined by my size and I refuse to be made to feel inferior or ashamed, or be the butt (pun unintended) of gold hot pants jokes. I may look like a jolly fat person, but I have feelings too.

Yes my name is Kylie but it just could have easily been Nicole......Kidman anyone?

The Ghost of Christrmas Past

My memory contains huge holes. I know why. It's protection, it's what brains do in the face of trauma, they edit out stuff. Sadly as well as the painful, the sad and the difficult, they sometimes erase the good as well.

Christmas in Australia is so different to here. Here Christmas marks the start of winter and is the last good thing to happen until Easter. In Australia Christmas marks the start of summer and is just the beginning of a long summer of holidays, trips to the beach, swimming and fun.

The smell of Christmas is what I remember the most. Eucalyptus, dust, the sunshine emphasising the scents of summer. I would look forward to the food, groaning tables of cold meat and salad, new potatoes, fresh fruit, my aunt's icecream bombe.

And Nana. Always Nana. I know one or two of my early Christmases would have been spent at the farm. My grandparents had a sheep farm in Lilydale northern Tasmania, not far from Launceston where I chose to do my degree.

When  first started counselling late last year my counsellor would ask me for a safe place to go if it got hard. I chose my grandmother's kitchen  at the farm. Strangely though I remember her every day cooking I don't remember Christmas at the farm at all. I remember vague anxiety that father Christmas may not be able to find us there, though he certainly did.

I remember Nana's gifts. I have some of them now, sadly not all. One of the things my first husband used to do was destroy things close to me, and her books to me were often a target. I still have A Child's Garden of Verses and read them to Joseph. She often bought me the Children's Book of the Year, my favourite author was Colin Thiele, and my favourite book of his was The Valley Between, which was just so funny.

Nana sometimes bought us jewellery, often she'd have something extra for me. We were extraordinarily close. She used to take us to the movies, I have fond memories of her taking us to the Star Wars sagas and removing her hearing aids!

When I was seven they sold the farm, moving to Hobart, not just to be closer to her family, both my mum and my uncle lived in Hobart, some 200 kiometres away from Lilydale. Christmases now are clearer. Usually we would go to either my aunt and uncles or have to at ours, alternating. In the morning we'd whizz over to Mornington to swap presents with the grandparents, then go back in the evening for a meal. My nana would set up a buffet table in the back bedroom with sandwiches, sweets and cake. 

I remember Nana as a small, kind old lady, yet she was only 79 when she died. I was just 19. I was living in a lovely sharehouse with two amazing girls, Christina and Jodie. They wrapped me in love and kindness and cared for me dearly. I loved that house, there we were all safe. Then everything changed. Christina got married, Jodie dropped out of university, and later sadly died. That house on Mangan street could well have been the safe place in my memory, with its rotary clothesline, funny little laundry room with the bright yellow floor and a dated kitchen that now would be considered charmingly retro.

Now the Christmases I have with my son are so different. Yesterday there was no family to visit. A fleeting FaceTime with his grandparents and cousins in Germany. No whizzing around trying to fit everyone in.

After my grandfather died my Nana moved in with us and became an integral part of our every day lives. Our bond grew even closer. She taught me about faith, love, embroidery, cooking. I looked up to her so much. She was truly an amazing woman. When she died the house was filled with cards, letters and flowers.

She touched the life of everyone who crossed her path, she was amazing.

She's my ghost of Christmas past.

And I miss her. 

Seven Top Tips to the Perfect Christmas Pavlova

Once upon a time when I wanted inspiration for what to cook I would open one of my cookbooks and look inside. Now I tend to turn to Pinterest where I found this amazing looking object and pinned it. I am, like many others I suppose, somewhat guilty of pinning and never making but this time I was committed to giving this a try.

Now where I'm from Pavlova is a traditional thing, usually made in a disk, I've never seen it with a hole in the middle. In our family one of our Christmas traditions is to have a small pudding, often a Legacy one, or from the local CWA shop (equivalent to the WI). Australian puddings are different a little to here, cooked in a calico cloth, and boiled rather than steamed. Alongside this we serve a cold dessert.

We had our extended famiy from my husband's side over this weekend and I decided to cook this amazing confection for dessert. Here are the step by step pictures.

Here are my additional tips for the perfect pavlova.

1. Know your oven. Pavlovas like a steady low heat, there are several methods my preferred one is the overnight method, heat your oven to 250 degrees whilst you make your pavlova, turn the oven off then leave it overnight.

2. Go electric. I am fortunate to have a Kitchenaid stand mixer, I used to have a Kenwood which was just as good. You can use a hand held electric beater with good effect, as long as you have a nice big bowl. Don't be tempted to try a handwhisk. I am sure it can be done, but its probably best to make something else!

3. Allow plenty of time. Whatever oven method you use the pavlova must cool in the oven, you will stress it out and make it cry if you move it when hot (seriously it will weep). If you need a dessert in a hurry, make something else.

4. Beat well after addition of sugar. You must add the sugar slowly and beat well after each addition. If you don't the crystals of sugar will remain large and will contribute to weeping, as they will melt as the pavlova cools.

5. Cracking is normal Some cracking is inevitable. That's why pavlovas are covered in cream and fruit!

6. Pavlovas are soft and marshmallowey in the middle A lot of cooks cook the pavlova so its like a French Meringue, but a soft squidgy interior is, in my opinion, the desired result.

7. Don't add flavouring to the pavlova mix With many things I experiment with Pavlova I am a purist. No greated chocolate, no nuts, no nothing in the actual meringue mix. Go crazy with toppings and the cream filling if you wish.

As its included in the original recipe I didn't include it as a tip, but it is essential your eggs are at room temperature. Fridge cold eggs will not get enough volume and your pavlova won't be successful. 

The pavlova following this recipe came out perfectly. I think the wreath formation encouraged more even cooking, and I was very impressed with the result, as were the guests. And everyone cleared their plates.

I hope this has encouraged you to try something different this Christmas. 

On Coming Out

I was 19. I was busy with boys, after not having a boyfriend up until the age of 18 I was starting to date and explore the world. A good friend of mine who I had known for three years asked me out one day. We had a lovely date, and he held my hand. We went for a walk in the evening light to the park and he kissed me. It was weird. There was no real chemistry between us, our friendship was a good one but there was nothing else there, I thought.

As we sat on a park bench he started talking about his hopes for us. Marriage, good jobs, having children, growing old together, I was like "woah woah woah". This was totally strange, 0-60 in 20 seconds, he'd never really shown interest in me romantically. Anyway, he kissed me goodnight and went home. A couple of days later he came around to my parents house.

"I have something I need to tell you", he said. "It's not you, it's me". I looked at him, his face red, tears in his eyes. "I do really like you, but um....." He paused, "I like boys more".

I smiled and hugged him. I wished him well, I asked about what was happening. He had met a boy but wanted to see if he could make himself be straight. Thankfully he was quick in realising that he had to follow his heart, it could have been a lot worse.

This occasion was the second time this had happened to me, there were was one more occasion too. Young men in Tasmania felt pressured to be something other than who they were. 

You see in the early 1990's in Tasmania being gay was illegal. I remember the rhetoric well. "It isn't illegal to be gay, just anal sex is illegal". "You can be gay, just don't sleep with anyone".

Fortunately law reform happened after much blood, sweat and tears.

When the news about Tom Daley was released yesterday I felt overwhelming sadness that sexual preference is still seen by many as a very. big. deal. I was heartened that a lot of people said "who cares as long as he's happy".

I wish we lived in a world where "coming out" wasn't necessary, that everyone was free to discover their sexuality. Where sports stars felt free to just be themselves. I fear the reaction from the press in this country will impede others from living their lives true to themselves. We are yet to see a Premiership footballer "come out", stigma still looms.

This post from Simon Blake of Brook Charity is a brilliant one and I suggest you read it. 

I hope social media continues to help enable all of us to express ourselves and tell the world about our true selves. And I hope we are ready to support one another and make this easier.

On My New Beading Obsession

This year has been one of learning, and one of the big things I have learnt is the art of self care. I found myself with a large amount of annual leave to take so have got this week off. I wanted to do something positive for myself that was cheap, fun, and engaging. 

I love crafts. I used to do a lot, folk art painting, embroidery, crazy patchwork, beading. Over the years my wrists have got quite weak, and I find a lot of crafts quite hard to do now. I thought I'd give Hama beads a try, after seeing my friend Merry's pinterest boards. You can purchase bead supplies directly from her too.

I wasn't sure how I'd get on with them, so I started with a £5 pot from IKEA, these have proven to be quite good, and have now done an order with Craft Merrily as the Hama melt better, and are of a better quality, but the IKEA ones were great to practice with.

I'm going to visit my best friend Daniel soon and not one to go empty handed, wanted to take some presents. I'd normally bake or make chocolates, but Daniel is on a soft diet and has turned his nose up at my suggestions of white chocolate and cranberry shakes or carrot and ginger soup! Daniel is a geek and wanted some geeky decorations for Christmas to balance out the hideous singing decorations his mum and nurse love!

I started out with Pacman

 

These were nice and easy and I found some great patterns on Pinterest. 

Next I tackled the Avengers.

 

One of Daniel's favourite programs of all time is The Big Bang Theory so I thought I'd make him Sheldon.

But then Sheldon looked awfully lonely. There were patterns for Penny, Howard and Raj so I made them, but Sheldon needs Amy, so I had a play and came up with my own design. Then a Twitter friend quite rightly pointed out there needed to be a Bernadette so again I had a play and designed her too!

Finally, not to be left out I made myself a little series too.

 

I've made all these over the space of two days, they are a great activity to do on your own or with little people. I've really enjoyed it and have collected loads of ideas on my Pinterest board. 

I hope I've inspired you to give it a try!

On Having Purple Hair

I am very conservative with my hair. Actually all of my appearance really. I like to blend in , not stand out. I really wanted to do something fun for World Prematurity Day which was a couple of weeks ago now, so I decided to dye my hair purple.

 

It was a big commitment as I had to go blonde first for the purple to take. I still haven't really decided what I'm going to do long term and I really miss my boring brown hair!

What's been interesting is people's reactions. I like to blend in, not stand out. People have treated me really differently. Strangers, especially men, talk to me, asking me how I got my hair so bright, and interested in me as a person too. Really odd.

Some people have ignored me, old ladies in particular, and also the Somalian families in the playground. Something worth remembering as I want to travel to Ghana next year and will need to be a bit more sedate for that, I feel.

Being different isn't a bad thing, of course it's great in lots of ways, but it has been a big adjustment and I'm still not sure I like it. 

I think I've decided to get it cut into a bob then have the colour corrected, but I'm not ready yet, I'm enjoying life as an indie rock chick with purple hair!

This year has been one of huge change, and self realisation. Therapy has been the making of me, and I have new confidence and self assuredness. There is a way to go yet, but I feel I am making progress to becoming the me I want to be.