Margo's Sticky Marmalade Tea Loaf

Dear Lucinda

Just wanted to drop you a quick line to 1/ say how lovely it was to see you recently and 2/ inform you that I have just purchased that little cookery book you and Cathy Chino are so fond of, and lo and behold, would you believe it, when I unwrapped it, it mysteriously fell open at page 130
Sticky Marmalade Tea Loaf. Well, that was it, pinny on and away I went.

I left it for Mr Mocha to put in the Aga as I had to dash to meet that nice man off the television, John Craven. We did a spot of filming at the local supermarket, then back to our house for more filming - Sound man, Camera man and Director all in toe. Luckily, I had already made my trademark chocolate cake (apologies Ms Collister, dare I say it, a recipe from my dear old friend Delia) which we all washed down with mugs of hot tea and cafetiere coffee, then on with the filming. We chatted about the carbon footprint of our food, which I am now very well educated about thanks to 'Mike' the expert. Next, a spot of cooking with 'Kale'. I have it on good authority that it used to be fed to cattle, but it was very tasty with chicken and potatoes, even middle Mocha enjoyed it. Alas, tiny Mocha was more interested in his Mario Party on the Wii, than the lights, cameras and other TV paraphernalia taking up my kitchen. So, now we wait with great anticipation for the broadcast of 'Countryfile' on 11th March.
I only pray we don't live to regret it and end up on Harry Hill's TV Burp!

I digress, back to my baking. The loaf was delicious, but my advice would be to have a wet-wipe handy for sticky fingers!

Ta Ta for now

Margo xx

Carrot Cake

Dear Cathy

I don't know which is worse, using that state-of-the-art food mixer while all the time professing to be a purist, or owning such a magnificent machine just for show!

This weekend we had a visitor staying and I know he is particularly partial to a carrot cake. What with all my voluntary work, I didn't get chance to bake on the Friday he arrived, although I did serve up a tasty lasagne with a crisp green salad for supper, followed by a couple of bottles of red wine.
By the time I went to bed I had become quite political and was slurring a bit, but luckily I didn't stray beyond the bounds of good taste. The next day I was a bit dizzy but still produced a glorious butternut squash and red pepper soup (recipe courtesy of Margo) and aforementioned carrot cake.

The cake was easy to make as it's one of those recipes that contains vegetable oil rather than butter (sounds awful doesn't it?), but you just throw everything together, slop it into two cake tins and pop it in the oven. It was quite a dark mixture, what with all that brown sugar, and little Latte said it looked like poo when we put it in to bake. (It didn't stop her licking the bowl out.) The cake was very tasty and super-moist, and I became over-confident with the icing. I made it in a rush and it turned out to be runny and lumpy - like sick! I had to throw it away and start again, this time adding the cream cheese to the butter and orange juice, little by little, in order to prevent it from curdling. Et voila! De Gateau aux Carrottes!

Well dear, must get on. Mr Latte and the little ones are at the village hall rehearsing for the pantomime and I want to use the time to get a few jobs done. I applied some beautiful stage make-up to the children before they left - they looked like two miniature Margot Fonteyns. I turned my back for two minutes and some official had gone over the top of my artistry with some luminous bright blue eye shadow. Unbelievable! Mark my words, if they come out in a rash someone will feel my boot up their arse!

Much Love, Lucy. x

Little Pots of Baked Chocolate

Hello dear!

I can't say I'm surprised at all by Margo's ostentatious new kitchen - if ever there was a woman who had it all and never tired of telling us about it, it's her. Chandeliers?! But I do see a chink in her armour - did you say a shiny red food processor? I thought Margo was a stickler for the wooden spoon and mixing bowl; what a duplicitous woman she is. I shall no longer feel inferior because I have to get by with a Sainsbury's Basics electric whisk! I can work wonders with it and don't need to pretend; I bet she distresses shop bought mince pies at Christmas and passes them off as her own...

This evening I am feeling most satisfied, even a little smug. After a particularly challenging week, I decided that the Chino Family needed a little spoiling and set to planning a lovely evening meal. We ate chicken and mushroom risotto followed by Little Pots of Baked Chocolate (heavenly!) and yes, the 'molten chocolate centre' did 'ooze out' as I broke the crust. I believe that even Raymond Blanc would have been impressed.

[This picture was taken after the pudding had cooled so, Margo, the inside is not oozing.]

The recipe required 300g of good plain chocolate; when I came to inspect the contents of my larder cupboard, I only had 200g of Bourneville; drat! I rifled through the fridge and found another 50g and a single chocolate from a Christmas variety box; getting closer! But how could I make up the final 50g? In desperation (on so many levels) I was forced to use the last of my Cherry Green & Blacks. What resulted was actually quite pleasant, however, one of my youngest nearly went apoplectic when he came across the alien fruit in his desert. Honestly, if it's not a banana, he won't go near it. I bet Margo's children eat all sorts of exotic things. By the way, what is that black speck in the marmalade? Heaven forbid it's anything untoward; as long as it's not your charred flesh, Lucy...

Speak soon, Cathy x

Margo's Marmalade

Dear Cathy

Nice of you to drop me a note but I wasn't worried about you. I remember only too well last year when you went AWOL for a month and it turned out you were sitting on your backside without a care in the world somewhere on the Costa del Sol. I was beginning to wonder about Margo though, as we haven't heard from her for a while, so I popped in on her today.

It was a surprise visit, and I found her in her newly remodelled kitchen making Marmalade. The kitchen looked beautiful I must say. She has a classic cream Aga, a stylish kitchen island, several stained-glass windows, one of those fab red food mixers they use on The Great British Bake-Off, and not one, but two HUGE chandeliers. The place was spick and span, and there she was, just about to do the wrinkle test - on her Marmalade.
When the boiling mixture had reached setting point she lifted the huge preserving pan off the Aga and poured the contents into jars (and over the table) 'freehand'. I was holding the jars steady and let me tell you it's a wonder I've got any skin left on my arms. If you want to know what to buy Margo for Christmas next year, for god's sake get her a funnel. Anyway, while I was there she made a phone call and while she was distracted I took the opportunity to run my finger along a few of the less conspicuous work surfaces, but not a trace of muck anywhere. (I bet her bedroom is strewn with wet towels and dirty underpants.) She was kind enough to send me home with a (small) jar of her freshly made marmalade - pictured. I could ask her to write with the recipe if you were interested?

Did I ever tell you about the time Margo and I went to see The Vagina Monologues together? We were waiting for curtain-up and Margo was just telling me that she'd left her brood with a roast chicken, stuffing, roast potatoes, carrots, beans, cauliflower, cabbage and god knows what else, when she received a text from Mr Margo which read: "No gravy - gutted!"
I'd left Mr Latte a piece of toast on a plate with an unopened tin of sardines on top. Some men don't know they're born do they?

Speak soon dear. Love Lucy. x

PS Did I tell you about my new Breville 'Cafe Style Sandwich Press'???

Happy New(ish) Year!

Happy New Year, Lucy! I can't believe that we're almost in February! Where is the time going?

I have to apologise for my lack of baking - I'm afraid that my beloved has transmogrified into somewhat of a foodie fascist in a bid to rid himself of a spare-tyre's worth of festive fayre. The least mention of anything more fattening than a limp crudite has him launching into a rant about health and fitness. I wouldn't mind, darling, but there is a cupboard full of left-over chocolates that I'm having to consume, surreptitiously; it's a dirty job, but someone has to do it...

I'm hoping to be able to bake later in the week as the Chino children are about to take packed lunches to school, and shall want something 'cakey' to accompany their sandwiches. I do hope it all goes well, Mr Chino has volunteered to make their lunches, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the responsibility will fall to me ere long; 'twas ever thus - I remember the long discussions we had as a family before we got the dog, last summer: "Oh, yes! We'll all walk her!", "I'll get up at 6 o'clock in the morning to take her around the block, Mum.", "We'll have lovely family walks at the weekend!"Needless to say, I'm the only person who remembers the aforementioned conversations and the only one who turfs out at all hours and in all weathers! (But that's how I can get away with finishing-off all of the chocolates without my jeans giving me away!)

I'll write to you again very soon, with results of my latest bake.

Hope all is well with you and that your oven is sparkling, once again.

Much love, Cathy x

Fa la la la la, la la la la!

Ho Ho Ho Cathy!

Gosh, what a lot of baking, and it all looks so good. Your presentation is second to none dear.

We had a fabulous Christmas and only finished off the last of the turkey gravy this afternoon. We've been eating roast dinners every day to use it up, all except for yesterday when I went to London for my lunch. It was a very special occasion as an old friend from abroad was visiting, so I made the trip to Covent Garden to see her. We had a light lunch accompanied by Champagne Cocktails. Ever so slightly dizzy, I just about made it to the right platform at Paddington to catch my train home. On alighting at our local station I had a twenty minute walk, which might have been a bit spooky, had the bubbles I had imbibed not kept me all warm and floaty.

We have enjoyed all the usual festive village traditions including the Christmas Coffee Morning and the Christmas Pudding. The latter, is a special evening when a mixture of villagers get up on stage and do
a turn, a little bit like all the wonderful ingredients that go to make a Christmas Pudding in the culinary sense. Speaking of which, I didn't make a pudding, but not to be out-done by you my dear, I did make Mince pies (with home-made mincemeat),

a Christmas cake,

a Trifle,

Christmas cookies with the children,

and some Bread Sauce. I know that Bread Sauce doesn't really count as baking but I do so love it. I go a bit heavy on the cloves as you can see.

On Christmas day I cooked the lunch, and all was going swimmingly until I went to prep the sprouts and found there weren't any. The silly woman who put together my veg order at the local market had not put them in and I had not checked. It didn't really matter because we had lots of other veg and I put some frozen peas on the plates for a splash of green. When I gave mother the bad news however, she looked gloomy and remarked:
'I always say it's not Christmas dinner without sprouts' - typical.

The next thing was that the oven started smoking. Some of the juices from the turkey were leaking onto the bottom shelf, so I took out the bird and got on my hands and knees with a fish slice to scrape up the sticky black mess. Just then Mr B from up the lane stuck his head through the open window to give me some of his chocolate covered Vodka Damsons. I must have looked a right state when I got my head out of the oven to wish him Merry Christmas. To top it all, as soon as I'd cleaned up the mess I managed to drop my delicious bread sauce on the exact same spot. I was quite upset, so I scraped it up and put it back in the bowl. Nobody seemed to notice, although it wasn't quite as creamy as it had been and there were a few little black flecks in it.

Anyway, we all survived. It's turkey curry tomorrow and the day after we are off to the panto - oh yes we are!

Speak to you in the new year, much love, Lucy. xxx

PS The Damson Gin worked out very well and I shall be making more next year. I found out too late that when you have drained off the liquid you can make a very nice crumble out of the gin-soaked damsons. Alas, ours were already on the compost heap!

Chocolate Shortbread

My dear Lucy; Happy Christmas! You didn't need to apologise for being so busy in the run up to the holidays - it was madness, wasn't it? But so joyful! We attended all the Chino children's nativities, which were wonderful; the little ones were a shepherd and a traveller and the eldest was a boy in a play about being homeless at Christmas. I cried at them all and for very different reasons: the 'traditional' nativity was so sweet, complete with X-Factor-style dancing from some of the angels! And the more contemporary offering made me so grateful for what we have that I admit I wept with gratitude. How awful it must be to be alone and struggling, when everyone appears to be so happy at this time of year...

Anyway, needless to say, Christmas for us was joyful and my baking was triumphant!

I made a couple of batches of Chocolate Shortbread [Page 31] and gave some to friends, with a bottle of wine, as a gift; the rest I kept for the boys, but felt the need to sample some myself with a cup of tea... Yum!

We had a houseful, so I ended up baking quite a lot: Saturday was Death by Chocolate (as recommended by you) and was delish!

(I added white chocolate stars for a more festive feel!)

I was "brave" enough to bake on Christmas Day due to the fact that Mr. Chino cooked the lunch. Pudding saw me revisiting the Lemon Meringue tart [Page 168], but this time with less disastrous results due to cheating and buying ready-made pastry cases from the supermarket - this provided a delicious, and safe, alternative to the debacle that ensued when last I tried this recipe. Unfortunately, I neglected to take photographs so Margo won't get to see that I really can make this dessert.

Finally, on Monday, I made Bread and Butter Pudding [Page 297]. Now, previous attempts to make this humble pud had baffled me, with something akin to a sweet toast and egg concoction emerging from my fan oven. Not so, this time! Hurrah! I am now able to produce something so light and moist it borders on the erotic; there were groans and murmurs of delight as we ate!

Now all the guests are on their way back to Shropshire, the beds are stripped and the vacuuming has been done. Christmas feels like a world away, but I am reminded of Santa's visit every time I hear the little ones knocking out a tune on the drum kit; wishing you 'peace and joy' for the season!

Much love, Cathy. xx