Question: What do you do when you’re not sure you’re going to even see an oven for the next several months?
Answer: You go mad baking and force feed whoever is within a five mile radius.
I did this recently. I’m still not sure when I’m going to see an oven again – within the next few weeks and months I’m going to become a traveling vagabond and have some adventures while I build up my (other) career.
So. It’s Saturday, and if you’re anything like me, you’ve been spending these precious hours off so far finessing the art of balance between hedonism and total inactivity. The workweek still seems relatively far away and there are no problems on the horizon, as far as you’re concerned. Bring on the chocolate martinis. We’re done with the 9 to 5 for now.
And on the proposing side of the motion – cupcake selection boxes..
Here’s a few scenarios we’ve likely all been a part of, centrally, or peripherally.
There’s the group at the restaurant, an evening out to unwind, that turns – by stealth – into a subtle and resolutely unspoken competition between the women at the table. Who’s not eating bread, or pasta – who can pass off the most of the contents of their plate on their boyfriend? Who has eaten earlier and doesn’t particularly want more than two bites? Everybody remarks loudly and conspirationally on how full they are, once half (or less) of their main meal is dispatched. Four people can share a dessert, can’t they…? Most don’t want it, at all. Enjoyment of the night, and the food, erodes into a discomforting, uneasy struggle to eat without judgment and enjoy the calm of a night off.
When you have a small number of weeks free between moving from one end of Ireland to the other for the mania and chaos of a new clinical practice block, you end up doing ridiculous things with your time.
Ever tried to put tofu in a cake?
Stop making that face, it’s nowhere near how you’re imagining.
Coconut and I have always gotten on in a pretty casual sort of way. You know, like that person you know down the road who you see on the same bus sometimes; they’re alright and you vaguely mean to get to know ’em a little better but you just never quite get around to it. It’s not that I have anything against coconut; I just never get around to it.
This is cold weather food right here. Right now, it’s late, I’ve had two car rides and two train journeys to get home, the wind is battering the windows and rain is trying to drill a hole in the pavements outside – I have a feeling that nights like these are what make these gorgeous, gooey centre cakes even better.
Me and Mango have a pretty serious relationship, but me and Dates? Well. Let’s put it this way – I’ve been known after many a long day to disappear off to bed with just a full bowl of medjools and a terrible film for company. As a teenager I had a terrible weakness for the chopped date mix that was sold in solidifed squares in some supermarkets – I’d buy that instead of chocolate. My mum makes hot, paradisically good Sticky Toffee Date pudding every Christmas, without fail. In my opinion, dates are God’s snackfood. Sticky brown sugar and caramel notes with a hit of healthy fibre, you say? Come right this way…
Alright. So I’ve seen the regulation flood of green cupcakes appearing in time for our country’s favourite ‘everybody go out and drink enough to make friends with the floor’ day. A lot of them look damn good – and I was even considering making my own take on green cake as a comment on the day.
But then perverse instincts kicked in and I went off on a massive cocktail-inspired cake quest instead – hey, alcohol-inspired treats are still appropriate, right? I like to call ’em CupTails. I’m sure somebody has likely already thought of that, but I like it. It’s all catchy and stuff.