After quite a long week, all things considered, I have had the blissfully low key weekend I craved.
Last week the little dog was spayed. now any dog owners out there will know, this is unnecessarily stressful. I only decided to do it on Tuesday after being guilted by a fellow dog owner on my morning walk. other people do have a way of bringing out the feeling of uselessness in me. Only last week 2 people did half marathons in times considerably quicker than me, and I grew über competitive. Stupid, given I have enjoyed a considerable break from running for winter given I do NOT have any real desire to run in bitter cold, snow covered trails this extended winter.
So under the knife went the dog. I was not prepared for how much we had grown to love this little dog. We became alpha protectors, and she slept on our bed that night so I could monitor her. When one finds himself angling a glass of water at 4am for a West Highland Terrier to drink from as she sounds dry, you realise you have turned a corner in life. She has bounced right back.
This weekend has been dulled by the fact the there was endless news about snow and cold weather, and dumbasses strill trying to make it cross rural roads despite the fact it was broadcast everywhere that only a mammoth should attempt the journey. This leads to anyone talking about it an even duller prospect, but the cold snap has come at a great time for old Daphne, as she wasn’t going out anyway. phew.
But the weather had come at a terrible time for me. It was the Clandestine Cake Club on Saturday, with the founder Lynn Hill due to come for a book signing. I began planning a week before. What cake shall I make? I tried a honey cake. it was a Jewish classic honey cake with a less winter spiced and more fragrant, herbal twist. My only issue was timing. I underbaked it. Sad, as I even managed to fold all the egg whites in without collapsing them (another thing I will credit myself with in my developing baking repertoire). But I wasn’t bowled over.
On I moved. I remembered my mate Marianne treated us all to a Bergamot cake on the coach to Bicester. it was the polenta cake I made ages ago with clementines made with Bergamots. Sold. I decided to do a Bergamot layer cake. My plan was Bergamot, lemon curd and honey cream cheese frosting. Plan afoot. I decided to make it Saturday morning. Friday night was spent in the gym, followed by steak and chips and a film I saw about 15 minutes of before I sparked out. Rock and friggin roll. it was some rubbish about a woman with stigmata who was possessed by a haunted set of rosary beads. Whatever, Hollywood.
I woke up Saturday morning with the most painful thighs after Friday night. I had not squatted with weights for ages. They still burn. I limped around with my mixer ready. Lemon curd was made, as was the cake batter, and I excitedly awaited the results. I realised that the sweet orange cake, with a sweet lemon filling. was enough. I didnt need to frost it. it was the right decision, an iced cake like that was not necessary. The flourish of a simple drizzle icing was perfect, just to finish it off. I stood, proudly gazing at this majestic cake.
Then the update came. Cake Club? Cancelled. Crap. I am slimming for a holiday that’s impending, and I have an epic cake in my kitchen. Drat. I decided some has to go to work. Sorry work pals. it’s not my fault. Blame the snow.
So Sunday came. I ate cake at 11am. I went on the new rowing machine for 40 minutes. I bought a leg of lamb for £8 from Aldi and had to butcher it myself. I took the shank off the end with a crappy Ikea knife, hacking at it like a moron. I cooked it in a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, herbs and garlic for 4 hours, with a left over veg box goodies take on Ratatouille. All very rich for a dieter. Ok I’m not dieting. I’m a lifelong chubber.
I also bought frozen berries. I needed to find a space in the freezer, so I took a cholla loaf out the freezer. I decided to make a chocolate chip bread and butter pudding. I used a block of Green and Blacks Butterscotch chocolate snapped into chunks. Amazing. It was bliss in a bowl.
So what have I learned this weekend? Hmm. I think i’ve learned that I have a sugar addiction. That I’m crazy in love with my little dog, and for all my nagging I have been rewarded with dog on the bed time.
And for all my exercising, I will have to get on top of my food addiction before I will ever be slim again. Ah bugger it. The ethos of this blog is as its name suggests, What Would Ina Do? I have never heard of Ina refusing to indulge. Ina knows nothing exceeds like excess. And as long as I’m sweating it out for an hour a day at least, how can I not deserve these treats? Life would be dull without it. It would just be me, Pete and the dog choosing terrible films on Netflix and then regretting wasting the hours. Not fabulous.
Although plenty of kisses and cuddles would ease some of the ache.
Off to work I go. Blog later folks.
– If ever in doubt, just ask yourself- What Would Ina Do? You can bet your bottom dollar it would involve Hydrangeas and Homosexuals