Monthly Archives: September 2006

oh my god the wedding is tomorrow

All I’m saying is that I’m no longer blond. I’m no longer even half blond. I know you wanna a picture but you’ll just have to wait, right now I’m knee deep in ganache…

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Royal icing sucks

OK cookies are off. Partly because every time I make a batch Stef eats them before I have chance to practice icing them, but mostly because I cannot do royal icing. It was driving me insane trying to cover those fucking cookies (believe me that word is in order here).
So I’ve now resorted to my original idea of petit fours, even though they said they didn’t want petit fours. I’ve taken an executive decision because I don’t believe anyone could say no to these…

Oh and Judith who said anything about intertwined initials? Thank god you’re not here putting your crazy ideas in their heads.

God give me strength

We’re having that row again, you know the one where the Italian says “if you go out with wet hair you’ll catch a cold”
and I say “bollocks”
Quickly followed by “if you swim after eating you’ll die”
“absolute fucking nonsense”

I really struggle to cope with the fact that my intelligent boyfriend believes this shit, and also that he thinks taking antibiotics can cure a cold and eating half warmed through chicken is a good idea.

What is it about Italians that they cannot accept basic scientific facts? And, since they show such blantant disregard for medical science, why aren’t they all dead?
Stef will later insist for the 8 millionth time that Italian cheese is better than English cheese and then he will be.

English girls are much better bakers

Largely due to my own big fat gob, I am gaining a bit of a reputation as a ‘cake maker’ round these parts. This means that now on every birthday or wedding I find myself, stupidly, offering to bake more and more elaborate cakes in a bid to wow the family.

I have now taken this stupidity to a new level by practically forcing Stef’s cousin to let me bake 400 mini heart shaped cookies for his up coming wedding. Not too difficult you say, but of course I insisted that each one should be iced and then the initials of the happy couple should be hand piped onto each and every damn cookie.


This is as far as I have got.
If anyone has a clue how to use writing icing nozzle number 1.5 without spraying yourself or the kitchen with pink icing, please, do drop me a line.

On a slightly less frazzled note, now chocolate cake I can do one handed with my cocking eyes closed.
See below a mini cake I rustled up for Stef just because I love him.

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