Little Victories

My wonderful son turns 10 tomorrow. That means that this time ten years ago I thought I was in labour. I remember saying to my husband “Take me to hospital because this is starting to hurt”. The clue to how wrong I was, as any experienced midwife would point out to you was in the fact that I was still talking calmly and coherently. I was far from established labour and was still in the “strong wince” phase. But I’ll save a blow by blow account of my first introduction to serious pain and NHS drugs for another post. This one’s about cake. Continue reading

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Bread of Heaven

One of the best things about eating tinned tomato soup when I was a child was ripping up the slice of soft doughy white bread that inevitably came with it and adding the pieces en-mass to the bowl. The resultant stodgy, doughy, tomatoey goo was, to my mind, heavenly. Imagine how happy I was to leaf through my River Cafe cookbook to find that those lovely Italians, masters of the tomato/carb combo, had invented a grown-up version of my childhood delight. Continue reading