Baking is most definitely a favourite pastime here (washing up, not so much). With the Boy's interest bordering on obsession, the kitchen can come in for a bit of a hammering and never more so than when it's gloomy and wet outside and the cake tins beckon. There's just something so satisfying about the whole process of transforming a list of ingredients into a baked sight to behold. And there has been something of an overload of those this week.
It started with a stunning raspberry and white chocolate birthday cake, produced by the Boy and painstakingly gilded in 22ct gold leaf. He followed this with a perfectly spicy za'atar foccaccia and Daim bar cookies (from this book but you can find the recipe here), whilst I whipped up a wondrously comforting rhubarb and ginger crumble (with that bright pink early forced Yorkshire rhubarb in the greengrocer's for such a short period, it would have been rude not to), an orange drizzle loaf and a batch of vegan chocolate and coconut biscuits.
That does sound a lot. Okay, it was a lot. Unusually so. But we do spread the joy (the Boy's work colleagues graft away in a sort of permanent seventh heaven) and I usually make half, sometimes even a quarter, of whichever recipe. (What's that? No, you're making excuses!)
Yes, I'm fully aware of the health warnings about all things sweet and scrumptious but have to say I'm with Yotam on this and will continue to enjoy home baked treats, albeit a tad more occasionally (as my mum and dad used to advise, everything in moderation).
Just don't grass on me to the sugar police.