Happy Birthday to YOU

To my lovely boyfriend

When I asked you what kind of cake you wanted for your birthday, you very wisely said that there's no point making a cake that would be miles away and you wouldn't be able to taste it, and that it would make more sense to make something for people who could actually eat it.

I didn't forget, though you probably did, that I promised I would make something to feed those who really need it. I know you said I should probably make sandwiches or something instead, but cake makes everyone smile. So I made both; hot dogs and a beer-box chocolate cake.

And for your 24th birthday I fed 24 hungry stomachs for you.

Three were hungry little tummies on their way home from school, and whose next meal would only be later that evening. Another two belonged to a Zimbabwean mother and daughter who sell handmade crafts, and hadn't made any sales for days. You helped put a smile on the face of a little boy and his father, both had had flu and no appetite for days, until they saw the chocolate cake. You sent home food for the family of a man I've seen standing at the traffic lights all week, and who hasn't been able to find work for years. One hungry tummy could stop digging through the garbage for food. Another seven could continue their days hard work in the summer heat. A loving dad kept his cake for his daughter, as her reward for working hard at school.

Joba and his wife asked me to take this picture for you to thank you; today was the first meal they'd had in 2 days.

Zuleka, Sitha and Patience sang happy birthday to you in three languages.

These are only five faces, but there are nineteen other people a little happier today thanks. But I don't want to wait another year before the happiness can be spread again, so I'd like to ask everyone who reads this to please sponsor a lunch for someone today. It doesn't have to be gourmet, it doesn't even have to be home-made, just something to feed an empty stomach, a warm smile, and a little bit of time to talk can go a long way. Let's make everyone feel like today's their birthday. 

So my Cruickshanks, from me, and our 24 new friends, happy birthday! 

xxxxx

Beer Box Cake

There's something really nostalgic about those great big slabs of cake you would take to school on your birthday; fighting over who got the last square of chocolate, and who got the ones with the blob of caramel. I haven't had a beer box cake in AGES! Sure, I'd love to be able to whip up a seven tier birthday cake coated in edible gold and modelled on the Burj Al Arab- but it still wouldn't taste as good as the memories of your whole class singing 'Happy Birthday' with icing covered faces.

And we're in business!

My first ever catering job was fantastic! I may not be able to feel my feet, and I am in serious need of sleep, but it was all worth it :) everything looked great, and thankfully, tasted good too, according to my new fans. It seems I may have some more jobs on the way, I'm regretting not having made business cards before the event but luckily the party was hosted at our pub so everyone knows where to find me (considering I spend a large portion of my time trying to run the place). Who knows, maybe I can convert the pub into a deli one day! My worry is that without the booze, they may not call me 'Master Chef South Africa' any more... I kinda enjoyed that nickname last night :( who cares if it was inspired by several whiskies and is not that accurate :P

The birthday boy owns a second-hand book store in the complex, so I used a whole bunch of Cinema magazines from the 70s to line the food table, and tried to keep the whole booky theme going... I don't know if it worked :/ but here are some pictures from the events, they're not the best quality since I didn't have much time, but I'm pretty chuffed with it all :D I know it doesn't look like much, but there was food to feed a freaking army!

better than KFC, double coating, baked, and low in fat ;)

The basic cheese, crackers and crudites- always my favourite, but always picked last but everyone else :(

Desserts!

Really mini lemon meringue cups with a soft, gooey and delicious meringue

And the star of the show....

D-day

I don't want to jinx it, but everything is going smoooooothly :) I have 25 minutes to kill while the pies are in the oven, then off to pick up some fresh ciabatta for the bruschetta, and the last minute cooking to do, and everything will be ready! Although my back is killing me, and I can't wait to have a long sleep tonight, I'm super chuffed that so far there are no disasters.

My only issue has been the debate of the pies: petite pastry cups, juicy filling, and topped with creamy mash, or manly all pastry, about 3 bites pie pies. And how small is too small? How big is too big to be mini? When the're so small I keep feeling like the pastry-to-filling ratio is out of balance (and not in favour of the filling), but when they're bigger, they just seem so, well, average and messy :/ so I have made 3 different kinds, and hope that everyone will be satisfied!

My favourite thing so far has to be my crispy cajun cornflake chicken, but I'm hitting that point where I've tested and tasted so much that all I want is a big bottle of sparkling water, lemon, and then chocolate ice cream. 6 hours to go! Can't wait to upload pictures, hold thumbs I don't have a last minute disaster and drop all the plates of food or something :/

Prep day

I am ADD at the best of times. Now, the day before I have to cater this event, my attention has gone AWOL. I have planned meticulously, but I can't concentrate on anything I need to do... hence waking up at 5am to test my pastry recipes, and now I'm sitting here on my blog. I need a routine smack every ten minutes to snap me out of it... hey, if you have my cell number, send me a message won't you? Just say "your pastry is going to burn!" or maybe "don't overcook the chicken!", or if you're feeling a little Gordon Ramsay-ish, "wake up you donkey!!".

If you don't have my number I'm not going to put it up here. The 40 minute blog viewer may have alterior motives (and no it's not my mom, it's an actual person who I don't know and is not even in PE). Then again, those motives may be to come help me make 50 miniature steak and Guiness pies. 

See how I procrastinate? This should have ended at the first paragraph, but woops, we're on paragraph number three. And you're probably still reading, because you like to procrastinate too. Hell, why not go onto Facebook after this? You never know who is sharing overly personal issues or trying exceptionally hard to appear mysterious and deep when it's blatantly obvious what they're trying to say and to whom. It's a great way to feel better about yourself. You know what's even better than Facebook? My blog. That's why I'm still on it. And you are too.

But now I really have to go. Goodbyes suck don't they? Don't worry, I'll see you tomorrow xxxx

When it rains, it pours

The weather in PE is miserable, it's like the middle of winter and our customers are drinking like it's a public holiday tomorrow. But you know that feeling of walking along a empty beach on a freezing winter day, and everything seems frozen as though life is on pause, until you hear the screech of a seagull? That's what this weekend rain has been like, until last night, exactly a year to the day that Daniel proposed to my sister, my brother proposed to Marilugh, and suddenly the rain looked beautiful and the cold weather is just an excuse to spend time cuddling up with the ones you love.

So between lunchtime yesterday and today, I became designated caterer for both my sister's bachelorette and my brother's wedding :) that's three official catering jobs, and I don't care if the majority are for family- catering for wedding stuff counts!

But now the nerves are kicking in, I have a LOT to prepare before Wednesday, and unfortunately I don't work well sharing space in the kitchen (hmmm hints of control freak cheffy characteristics??), in fact there is only one person I can work well with in the kitchen, and I'm not sure how happy people will be if I up my fee to R10 000 in order to fly in help.

So now it's planning planning planning phase, and hope that doing the theory will help pull off the practical!

I'm a big girl now!

It's official, I am a caterer! I may not have a omelette station, or fancy cooking equipment, or a chef's jacket (well except a pretty pink one that says 'Baker Lauren' that my mom got me... for my 21st birthday), but I have a job, to cater, for an event, for actual people :D And it's in 4 days time :/

Perhaps it's not the smartest thing to start with a job for 50 people, and endeavour to make everything completely from scratch- but hey, I've never been one to do anything small, and I'm a perfectionist, they wouldn't be home-made pies if the pastry wasn't made at home, now would they? Then again, they're probably going to be so boozed that they won't know if they're eating vegetables or meat... but yeah, this is totally a professional job!

So the countdown begins! Join me in my temporary insanity of catering solo :) 

Heartache Cake

It's an age old friendship, love and food... They have romantic dates, fights, they rekindle their passion, they laugh, they cry, they exit dramatically, they run back into each other's arms. I once read a book where the daughter makes her mother a so-called heartache cake, and after eating the entire thing, it's supposed to fill some of the hole in your heart.

I think most of us realise that the only thing eating an entire cake can fill is your fat pants. When you really miss someone, and they're far far away, you find comfort in all the deliciousness around you.

"I love this cupcake because it loves me enough to stay here!"

"I love this pizza because every single slice is here with me and none of it has to go away!"

"Chocolate solves everything, if I eat a kilogram of it I'll stop crying."

Then after a little while of this, you reach the 'I want to go out and whip my cleavage out and feel sexy' phase. This is usually because it seems as though your cleavage has been given an extra boost. As you get dressed you realise that it's not the only thing that has filled out, and the attempt to feel sexy leaves you raging against every sweet and savory treat that may have simply looked at you the wrong way. Then comes the trauma:

"NOW he'll never come back because I'm SO fat!"

When you break up with someone, there's the period of not being able to eat because the emptiness overwhelms you. After a while, you reignite your friendship with food, and if ever there was a time to want to believe in heartache cake, it's usually at this point.

I am here to tell you that there IS a heartache cake, and it's better than you ever imagined. It's called a run. That's right. I'm that bitch that's going to tell you that chocolate will not solve your problems.

See the problem with food and love, is that they only go well together when they're both happy to be together. When love is attacking food like Oprah after a juice fast, then food is not so happy. So inevitably, while you'll be loving that triple chocolate mousse cake for the whole 10 minutes it takes to eat it, you're going to spend days cursing it when you realise that it's just made you feel worse. And poor food is left confused and caught in a love-hate relationship.

It's a simple solution. Go for a run. Running has been known to cure uncontrollable crying (if you can run, breath and cry at the same time you're superhuman), it provides a physical heart ache to cover the emotional one, and when you're feeling sorry for yourself, nothing will quite get your ass in gear like feeling everything wobble as you run past cars full of people. After a few days you'll even be brave enough to smirk at these people in that very satisfactory way that says, "You know you feel bad just sitting there while you watch me run, I know you wish you had the commitment I do".

So when you're missing someone and the heartache becomes unbearable, and you really need some love, run to the shop, buy a leeeeeeetle cupcake, run to a friend, share it, and run home. If it weren't for visas and border control, I'd suggest actually running to the person you miss, but I don't want to risk sounding crazy. I've obviously never considered doing that. And if I did, I definitely would get further than the end of my suburb... and of course I wouldn't be stupid enough to try it twice, while wearing non-waterproof mascara, thus looking like a stoned Panda :/

Cooking for my dad: the series

I love my dad, I love him and all his crazyness to bits. But I hate cooking for him. He once referred to something I was making as resembling fish bait; I can’t remember what it was I was making, but I do know that it wasn’t fish, and it wasn’t supposed to (and probably didn’t) look that bad. He peers into pots and pans with his nose wrinkled up, like a child that’s just eaten a sour sweet. He comments (make that complains) about EVERYTHING. Previously, this would be followed by him going off to bed and sulking about there not being any dinner. Now he demands to be part of the cooking process. This I can’t understand, as he very enthusiastically stirs and prods and whisks, but he does not for one second stop moaning. He proceeds to explain why this meal is nothing like the food his mother used to make him, why saturated fats are the good fats, and the merits of rys, vleis and artappels. He tries to force all his cooking methods onto a dish he doesn’t even know the name of, and then when I refuse, he mutters to himself while glaring at me and the stove. It used to be my goal to cook something he would enjoy just to prove him wrong for jumping the gun, now I desperately try to cook something he likes so that he’ll eat it and keep quiet for a few minutes!

Lately I’ve been on a good streak. This is a man that will eat something and enjoy it, and give you a sort of grunted “it’s edible”. I though luck was on my side; the previous night mom had made a curry that dad actually used the words “very good” to describe, so I thought I’d caught him at a culinary vulnerable point. Alas, by the following morning he had slipped into an insecure state due to his concerns that my mother’s curry may be better than his. I invited my sister for dinner as reinforcements; I’m hoping the peer pressure of everyone else enjoying food around him will inspire him to look at it in a new light. But I needn’t have worried, as he knocked me for a six when he took a bit of his specially made, individual chicken pie (his has to have more meat and pastry than everyone else, and not as much veggies), and responded with a “MMMMMMM!” followed by shepherding everyone into the kitchen, “Have you tasted this??”.

Now, I’m quite fond of my chicken pie, and my friends are quite fond of my chicken pie, but it’s not thaaaaaat good. I wondered if perhaps, tired of his moaning, my mom had snuck some special herbs in his pie when I wasn’t looking.

“This, THIS is restaurant quality!” became his new phrase for the night.

The puff pastry was store bought and I’d forgotten to baste it to brown it. The veggies weren’t even cut uniformly. This was most definitely not my finest dish.

“We are in the wrong industry, we should open a RESTAURANT!”

Oh lord.

“We could serve this food you know, and then it’s just word of mouth. We open up and serve 5 good meals, and those 5 people go and tell another 5 people...”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m chuffed that my dad is enjoying our cooking at last, and of course I’d love to have a restaurant one day, but the last time my dad spoke like this he had a midlife crisis and came home randomly one day to inform us that he had signed the lease for the pub he was opening. I’m currently trying to manage this pub as he directs himself through his late-life crisis. I’d at least like to cash in my shares from pub, travel the world, and wait until my own life crisis before I open a restaurant thanks!

Never the less, here is the promised series of recipes:

Easy homemade chicken pie

100% made-from-scratch trifle

Creamy custard

and coming soon....

*Orange and almond chiffon cake*

*Bestest banana bread*

Easy home-made chicken pie

A hearty meal for cold rainy days, this home-made pie is packed with veggies and has far less calories than the shop-bought kind. It's really versatile in that you can use whatever veggies you have lying around, and most of the other items are pantry staples. 

Made from scratch Trifle

Ah November... shit weather, insane workloads, and the annoying early arrival of cheesy Christmas carols in shopping centres, reminding you that in one short month you will be frantically dashing around to those same carols blowing your hard-earned Christmas bonus.

Our Christmas gatherings have been shrinking as the years go by, and poor dad's designated braai-er and driver duties have been rewarded with less and less of his usual favourites. From great big Christmas lunches with all the fat, sugar and alcohol possible, to diabetic and cholesterol friendly meals paired with a Windhoek Light. One of his old favourites was always trifle, and probably for the exact same reasons, it was always my least favourite. My gran would soak the trifle in gallons of sherry, and my innocent youth taste buds would recoil in terror, and the best part of Christmas lunch would end in a minesweeper-esque game of find the sherry-free jelly. 

So to surprise my trifle-loving dad and my Christmas-loving sister, we has little festive season warm-ups. Nothing store-bought and no short cuts (okay except the jelly), these little trifles are labours of love!

Decadent Custard

Food is filled with memories, and one of my most nostalgic foods is Woolworths fresh custard; I remember eating it from the tub when I was a child, sneaky spoonful after spoonful when no one was looking, when I was a teenager it provided comfort for all ailments and illnesses, and when I was a student it was a favourite surprise to find in a bag of Woolies goodies delivered to the desolate Grahamstown by my loving mother.

Despite all this, I've always felt a tad guilty for never making my own fresh custard. So recently I whipped up my first ever batch, and honest to God it tastes just like Woolworths, it's crazy easy to make, and it evokes all the feel-good memories that should never be separated from your custard experience. 

Basic bechamel sauce

One of the 5 mother sauces, a bechamel goes wonderfully with vegetables, meat and tomato-based dishes. It's really simple to make, but it seems that so many people make one silly mistake and end up with a watery, lumpy mess.

The top tips for a gorgeous bechamel:
- equal parts flour and butter
- use boiled milk, never cold
- add the milk in very small amounts, dash by dash
- whisk, whisk, and whisk some more
- season!!

Here's my step-by-step easy guide: