Those of you who follow me on Twitter might know that I’ve got a very exciting and hectic few weeks ahead of me. I’ll be relocating from Bristol to London just before new year to start a brand new job fundraising for the Prince’s Trust – an amazing charity, and one I feel absolutely honoured to be joining.
It seems hard to believe now, but this time last year, I was making my first ever batch of pastry.
Yep – ever.
I was pretty new to baking, and after trying my first ever mince pies a couple of weeks before (yep – ever. I know; such a deprived child), I decided I’d like to make my own. The prospect of making mincemeat and my own pastry was far too daunting, so it was Asda’s own that went into my pies – and very nice they were, too!
If you caught my last post on the kindness of strangers, you may remember that – before a remarkable series of events took place – it was originally destined to be about custard tarts.
I just couldn’t not share these beauties with you.
The custard tart was one of the bakes on my Bake List – though I’ve probably already mentally added about 30 things and removed others by this stage. It’s something I’ve loved to eat since I was a little girl, but had never made myself.
When a colleague of mine was agonizing over what to get her partner for her anniversary this weekend, I offered to help her celebrate the occasion with a batch of homemade cupcakes. I did it partially so I would have the chance to try out my lovely little heart-shaped icing plungers, but mainly because I think homemade cakes are a wonderful way to show your love for someone close to you.
Like many of you, this weekend my kitchen contained a pumpkin. Unlike many of you, I felt mine was just too precious to carve, so I did what comes naturally to me. I turned it into CAKE. Cupcakes to be precise – gorgeously light, subtly spiced, gluten-free ones.
You may have noticed something of a recurring theme on the blog recently – apples!
I’ve gone a little apple crazy. And thats because everywhere I look, there are lovely, juicy, tangy specimens of all shapes and sizes, just begging to be celebrated. Every house in my street seems to have an offering on their front wall, free to a good home, before the last of the crop falls from the tree and goes to waste among auburn leaves.