Foodie Friday: The fable of the frail frying pan

I have had a domestic disaster. Not a dishwasher / washing machine breakdown, or a cooker failure. Not even a fridge / freezer packing up (thank goodness - there's only so much frozen food we can eat and I'm pretty sure that even Hubbie would grow tired of fishfingers, garlic bread, peas and ice cream eventually !)

Nope it's none of these actual life altering disasters, it's a really minor and, therefore, exponentially worse one. The non-stick has gone on my small frying pan !!

I first noticed the other day when I spent an inordinate amount of time scraping an egg off the pan (with a non-metal spatula of course - I'm not a neanderthal !) and I put it down to my having the heat on too high under the pan. Then it took three attempts to get the pan clean (again not using a scourer, but a gentle cleaning sponge - this is not rocket science you know !) When I used it again yesterday I had the same, no actually worse, results with a badly scrambled egg mostly stuck to the pan. It wasn't as bad as the ones you see on Saturday Kitchen, admittedly, but it was not appealing to the palate.

I have another non-stick pan, but it is far larger so this one was always my go to pan for small things like an egg just for me or an omelette for lunch. Without it my attempts at healthy eating are foiled by laziness and the temptations of ready made foods. Why cook something without fat if you can just go to the shop and pick up something in pastry ? Frying pan as a dieters best ally may sound counterintuitive, but it's not, as any woman who's tried to lose weight on a low fat plan will tell you - and there are a few of us out there. Cooking with little or no fat means being able to eat 'fried' eggs and omelettes rather than foraging for food after an unsatisfying Ryvita and cottage cheese 'meal.'

It's not just the fat reducing qualities of the non-stick pan though. A few years ago I replaced my ancient collection of pans which I'd had since I went to University (and they were old then !). I'd been given gift vouchers for my 40th birthday so I decided to spend them on nice pans that all matched instead of the eclectic and 'pre-loved' looking ones I had. These ones are simpler to wash and aren't dented and discoloured from years of use. They haven't developed that distinctive smell that the old ones had which made all food taste vaguely the same.

In the short term it looks like I may have to use spray oil to coat the pan before cooking anything in it. If it is beyond reasonable use I may have to call on the guarantee that these things have when you buy them. The problem is I have no recollection of when I bought the thing and am only a little bit sure where I actually bought it. Worse case scenario I have to get a new one. Oh well I have a birthday coming up so I can always hint that I want one as a gift can't I ?

Like I said it's hardly an insurance matter, but this mini drama has rocked my world.

Wow I really do need to stop being a stay at home Mum don't I ?

Foodie Friday: Life is all about Chocolate, Chips and Cake.

I met a friend for dinner last week and she reached into her bag before eating so she could check what she was allowed to eat. I asked the obvious questions, 'on a diet ?' 'Pregnant ?' Turns out she has IBS and has been advised to avoid certain foods. Now I am way ahead at this particular party as I had severe problems with food around ten years ago and it took the GP two years of testing to conclude I had stress related IBS. Frustrated by the medical advice to eat charcoal (for real !) I decided to have a food allergy test at a health store to see if there was anything I should be aware of.

Now I know I brought this on myself really and if you have seen a 'nutritionist' or a 'holistic therapist' or spoken to anyone from the world of food health you won't be surprised by what the nice man told me after a highly unscientific test undertaken in the shop. I was advised to avoid: bread, caffeine, chocolate, onions, peppers, cabbage, red wine and red meat. In fact the only cliche he managed to avoid was that he didn't tell me to stop eating dairy.

The world of 'healthy eating' seems to be all about exclusion. We are advised to cut out wheat, sugar, dairy and caffeine. It's supposed to 'detox' the body. Now I don't know about you, but I don't feel toxic when I have a cup of tea. I feel pretty horrific at the thought of custard, but that's a preference thing. I used to feel a bit poorly if I overdid it with the wheat and I haven't drunk real coffee in ten years, but give up sugar and tea ? Give me a break. What's the point of living a long and essentially crappy life ? No cake - no tea - no hot buttered toast ? I realise that some people have genuine allergies to foods and I get that, what I'm talking about here is the self-imposed misery of food exclusion either to lose weight or to stay well.

I tried being a vegan for a few months in my first year at University. It struck me that as I already didn't eat meat I could easily be a vegan if I skipped butter on chappatis, left out the raita with my food and denied myself my beloved boiled egg and soldiers. However, I did struggle with tiredness, terrible skin and I was the most miserable I've ever been. I can see why Morrissey is such a grump most of the time -- hence it was only a shortlived experiment.

If life is about anything surely it is about enjoyment and experiencing and trying new things ? If I didn't eat sugar I'd never have tasted the exquisite chocolates from Rococo in Chelsea (also available online).

If I gave up dairy I'd never enjoy Ben & Jerry's ice cream on a hot day in Clapham Common watching live music and seeing the sheer bliss on my son's face as he scoffs two cones at once.

If I stopped eating wheat I would deny myself the pleasure of eating toast or pancakes or chappatis or cake. Personally I don't see wheat as the enemy, I love it. Most cultures in the world have a wheat based diet be it pasta or chapattis or bread and who am I to fight against those odds ?

This week I've made peanut butter cookies (a bit crumbly, but taste great), chocolate chip cookies (the boy loves these) and honey cookies (wanted to use up a jar of honey, they smell incredible and taste very sweet, but the boys both devour these for breakfast !). The simplicity of these and the happiness they create in my home cannot be overstated. 

All of which is a very long-winded way of saying that I'm going on a bread-making course this weekend. It's with Daniel Stevens who wrote the River Cottage bread handbook and promises 'all the bread you can eat' as well as lunch and wine - sold !!! 

It's a very early birthday present from Hubbie and I'm ridiculously excited about it. I will take photos and tell you all about it next week. 

Wave Hello and Say Goodbye

If you follow me on facebook or twitter you will already know that I've succumbed to January madness. Having kept my head together during the snow chaos and toddler tantrums it would appear my sanity has finally ducked out the back door while I was otherwise occupied. Yesterday morning I was searching for my keys (which is a daily activity since I started locking the front door at night) and having been to all the usual locations I finally noticed the "clink clink" coming from the spinning drum of the washing machine. I looked at my son, he looked at me and then we both took a deep breath as I stopped the machine mid-cycle to retrieve them.

Despite this sounding like a desperate cry for help I am glad it's come at the end of January as for some people it's been like that all the way through. Thankfully for all of us we can now look forward to the days being light for longer, the impending half term holiday and the delights of Shrove Tuesday and Valentine's Day. So as it's the last day of January I thought I'd take this opportunity to revisit my resolutions and update you on how they are going so far.

Making time to read - I'm going great guns with this one having already finished more books in January than I did in the whole of last year. Bearing in mind I used to be able to finish a book a week when I was commuting it's been a readjustment to only reading a few pages a day, but at least I am reading again so that's good. Of course it helps that the books I got for Christmas were by the likes of  Danny Baker and Caitlin Moran - I have decided that if I'm struggling to want to read a book then it's just not worth the effort.

Trying a new sporting activity - Until a few weeks ago I thought Kettlebell was the whistling sound coming from mother in-law's kettle when it makes a whistling sound as the water comes to the boil. Then I went to a free trial of kettlercise a few weeks ago. It is good old fashioned hard work using weights and performing a series of exercises to thumping music - I loved it !! Combined with the five week boot camp I'm currently doing I am definitely getting fitter. I spent last Sunday at lunch with the in-laws pulling my jeans up constantly - cursing the quality of tailoring these days. The next day I dug out a smaller pair of jeans and managed to get into them comfortably so it would appear that the hard work is having the desired effect - hurrah !

Go to the cinema once a month - Well if I go tonight I can still get this one in under the wire, but it is pretty unlikely. So let's just say that I have two willing movie buddies now (thank you Sarah and Vicky). Having Sky movies and on demand has meant I've been watching films at home and have caught up with the Harry Potter series having lost track of the plot a few years ago. Of course watching them in the wrong order isn't helping, but finding a 2.5 hour child-free space to watch a movie has been a feat in itself.

Cook a meal from one of my many recipe books - Ok this one I confess is still a work in progress. I've been consulting the books, but haven't actually made anything yet. I did enter a competition with a family favourite recipe (see previous posts), but haven't ventured too far from the usual menu that's scribbled onto a sticky note on the fridge. I have seen some lovely meal ideas in the latest Waitrose magazine so I'll be trying those for Chinese New Year. I will report back on how the crispy tofu pancakes turn out.



So, that's how I'm doing so far - not too bad I think.

Well, I guess it's farewell January.

Here's to a fun-packed February !

Blue Monday has me seeing Red

So last Friday it snowed and we spent the weekend playing in the snow and borrowed a sled from a kind neighbour so my boy and Hubbie could ride downhill in the powdery stuff. Then it was Monday and our car was so deeply buried (and we live on a steep hill which meant I wasn't going to drive to nursery) that we took two buses to drop my son off then I took two buses back then the same again to pick him up in the afternoon. It wasn't so bad and pushing a buggy uphill in deep snow is pretty hard work for the buttocks, so I feel quite virtuous.

Pretty much everyone else I've spoken to has felt that last Monday was hideous and dreadful and depressing. Then I was reminded that it was officially the "most depressing day of the year," you know the one:

• the day people give up their NY resolutions - especially the not drinking one ! 
• the day gyms see a drop off in new members who've paid up front for the year 
• the day we give up the diet as it's just too difficult and we want to curl up with a cuppa and some biscuits to keep warm
• the day we realise that being paid early for Christmas wasn't so great now we still have another ten days before the next payday 

I have mentioned Blue Monday in a previous post. It's the day that we supposedly feel that sinking post Christmas dread and fall off the wagon of resolutions rashly made in December. Well if you felt a bit crappy this week or were unexpectedly down in the mouth on Monday that's probably why.

Only it's not really. Blue Monday was a PR creation years ago to sell holidays to people in their January gloom. You know how Christmas adverts start in November and then the commercials to entice you to the sales are on just before Christmas then traditionally on Boxing Day we see beautiful beaches, elegant cruises and glamorous aircrews ? Well this whole 'Blue Monday' myth (complete with the 'scientific study' claim that has no basis in reality) is a deliberate effort to get you to book your holidays. It isn't real people so don't buy into it.

I say let's reclaim it and make Blue Monday famous only for being a song by New Order. Let's make it about something else. So if you've been feeling a bit down this week here are some suggestions of things to shake off the blues:

• change your resolutions to doable ones - like I'll bring the wheelie bin inside the same day it gets emptied
• take up something new - not a life changing thing necessarily, maybe start small eg. different bread  
• let go of our wishing away last year and embrace this one instead - it's only January, don't be so hard on yourself 
• put all the festive paraphernalia away - accept that all the leftover Christmas food has to go, yes even the peanuts, pretzels, etc.

Oh and pop on New Order's Blue Monday (the 12") just to remind yourself that it's a song and not a marketing agency's ploy to part you from your holiday fund. 

Here's to a Happy Monday (maracas optional) 

A cat, a fish, a Baker and the Bloggess...

The cat has started sleeping on our bed upstairs. He used to do that in the old house and before the boy was born, but in this house he has a few chosen spots to sleep and our bed hasn't been one of them. Until now. I wasn't sure why this was, but thought it might be that the room is warmer than downstairs, or he might just like sleeping where we've been. Then I spotted the him standing on his back legs with his front paws reaching up the chest of drawers at the top of the stairs. He was straining to look at something and then I realised what it was. The goldfish.

Vince the fish has lived with us for almost two weeks now and he seems to have settled in nicely. My son enjoys watching him swim and talks to him in 'fish talk' ie. making a face like a fish and going 'pop' a lot. He loved going out to get a fish tank for him and even picked up some cat food for the other family member so he is doing well in his ability to care for pets. I don't have a glowing record as a fish keeper - having overfed goldfish in the past - so when Hubbie said "there's too much food in there for him," I looked sheepish and felt guilty. I don't want to have the death of another fish on my conscience so I'm being much meaner with the fish flakes than I was before.

Overfeeding is a common theme for me so it's not surprising that this latest lesson coincides with my new year weight loss regime. I am resisting the urge to polish off all the leftover mince pies and had my first session of bootcamp last week so I'm feeling quite virtuous so far. The freezer is now bulging with yummy food that I've stored instead of 'getting rid' of it by eating it. I realise how uninteresting this must be to you so I promise not to bore you with the details of how it's going.

I may, however, make reference to how my resolutions are going. For example I've almost finished reading Danny Baker's autobiography and have already started on the Bloggess's book (which is great by the way). That's the reading resolution sorted. I've signed up to try a session of Kettlebells next week so that's trying a new exercise. Finally, I am delighted to report it looks like I have a movie buddie (thank you Sarah - you are indeed a Champion !), so I may have the going to the cinema one sorted too. Not bad going for the second week into January is it ?

Now if I can keep the cat from attacking the goldfish he might make it to February.

Foodie Friday: fudge & fancy gingerbread

Last night I shared my bed with two chaps and there wasn't a lot of sleeping involved.  Before you jump to 'three in the bed romp' conclusions it was my snoring Hubbie and my poorly son - who it turns out has tonsillitis - who kept me from a graceful slumber. What it does mean is that today I'm fairly good for nothing other than mooching around the house mainlining cups of tea to keep me awake and being grateful that I don't have to go to work.

I am so pleased I had the foresight to do my baking earlier this week. If I'd left it until today I'd be in a lot of trouble. Instead I have managed to bake and box up the second batch of peanut butter fudge which is nothing like the first. I have concluded that I didn't boil the mixture for long enough or at a high enough heat the first time so it was gritty and a bit too soft, but it stands alone as a great sweet fix if not an accomplished fudge. This batch is darker, more solid and has the texture of indian mithai with the buttery taste and mouth feel that appeals so much. I also managed to score some fabulous kilner jars to put the fudge into (which I'm tempted to keep for myself actually) so that I don't have to resort to using those take away plastic boxes that always smell vaguely of chinese or indian food even after many washes.

The other less successful bit of baking I did was the long awaited gingerbread kit from Waitrose. The mix was pre-made which required kneading to make it soft enough to roll out, but it was still too dry and kept breaking up. We did manage to get enough stars out of the mixture for my son's nursery party and some to decorate the tree with so it was sort of worth the effort. Once baked though the icing part was the next trial. There were two pre-filled icing bags and a small bag of 'edible glitter,' but the icing was too thick to pipe and did not 'smooth over the top' as the pack claimed. I'm particularly disappointed as this was a pricey £3.30 (and that was on special offer) and rather than being a fun activity to do with my boy it was just a bit too fussy so I won't be getting it again.

The surprise of the week was how well the festive palmiers turned out that I had sort of come up with as a way to use up the remainder of mincemeat and some puff pastry I'd bought to experiment with. I popped some in a jar to give as a gift and I think they make a suitably light alternative to traditional mince pies. They're light and just the right size to have with a cup of tea - which for me is the sign of a good snack.

So that's almost all of my Christmas baking done. Once it's over I'm going to feel bereft so I was delighted to receive a call telling me that the boy and I have a place on the 'Baking Bears' course at our local children's centre. It's a course of classes teaching children some basic cooking skills and is always over-subscribed so it's taken us a while to get a place. As we're starting in January it gives us something fun and foodie to look forward to.



That and the boot camp I've signed up to do in January to counteract all the overindulgence !!

When will I, will I be famous ?

You are probably aware that Andy Warhol is attributed with saying that in the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes. Well it's the future now (compared with then) and we have the insidiousness of reality TV fame which enables the mentally ill to convince themselves that they are "living the dream." That dream appears to be to marry in haste (and often), have a lot of children, get divorced, develop an eating disorder and sell photos of each of these events to trashy magazines. I think I prefer my dreams to be a polar bear or an astronaut thanks.

I am not immune to the lure of fame, only in my experience it has been separate events where I have had a fleeting brush with fame. Well, strictly speaking with the famous as the closest I've ever been (or want to be) is where I've spotted a famous sort. So here, as usual in no particular order, is my 15 minutes of fame (spotting):

- Did I even mention the time Bobby Gillespie grinned at me on the escalator at Highbury and Islington station ? Well he did - he was on the down escalator and I was on the one going up. I stared at him in disbelief and he grinned at me all friendly like - what a lovely man.

- Pop Will Eat Itself walked past me as they were preparing for a gig at my university Students' Union. I knew it was them because of the hair, I don't recall the gig and I have no idea what they do now.

- Me and my friend Neil were in a pub in North London and we saw the woman from Echobelly who isn't Sonia (he recognised her I just stared and tried to work out how I knew her).

- Linda Robson from Birds of a Feather asked me if this was the platform for the London train at Reading station. I told her it was and that there was a train due in about ten minutes. She thanked me.

- I saw Jonathan Ross twice in one week - once at the LWT studios and the other time he and his family were sitting in the row behind me and my sisters at the Leicester Square Odeon watching the Lion King. I told people he was stalking me, but we all know that's just fanciful nonsense don't we ?

- I saw Xander from Buffy in Covent Garden only to find out a few days later that he is one of triplets so it might have been one of his brothers.

- I often see the woman who played Susan the receptionist of the motel where Alan Partridge lived in "I'm Alan Partridge."I think Barbara Durkin lives in Croydon - Ahaa !!

- I've also seen the actress who was the mother of Jan Francis in Just Good Friends (Sylvia Kay). I stopped let her cross the road in front of my car in Caterham on my way to a Zumba class one Saturday morning. I'm nice like that you know.

- I walked past Nadia from Big Brother on Upper Street - she was pouting and appeared to be waiting for a cab with shades on - it was not a sunny day.

- I saw Sean Pertwee with his son at the N1 centre on Upper Street - it shows great restraint on my part that I didn't just go over and lick him.

- Upper Street clearly is the place for spotting folk as I walked past film critic Kim Newman and Dave Gorman on the same day.

- I had a letter in the Guardian on Saturday once when I reported that I'd seen Jon Ronson on the King's Road with this son Joel. The letter was in his writing style - if you google it there may even be some record of it in the ether.

- I once saw Trinny and Susannah walking arm in arm on the King's Road which led me to wonder if they really do hang out together or if they were filming a programme.

- When we stopped at services on the M4 once me and my Mum saw the singer Paul Young - I had to explain to her who he was.

- I stopped for a cup of tea at the motorway services and spied at another table David Emmanuel - yes him who designed Diana's dress with his wife.

- I nearly bumped into Marc Almond on Tottenham Court Road (the YMCA end) - he looked very shiny.

So there it is - the roll call of fame that I've been in proximity to. The eagle-eyed will notice that it's not scientific, but as some of these encounters were so fleeting the sum total is probably around 15 minutes.

I am expecting a call from Hello any day now as I'm practically a celebrity in my own right now surely ?

Kitchen Confidential (or thrills, spills and lentils)

You already know about my unhealthy obsession with Come Dine With Me and food in general. I have also said I'd never do the programme because no one comes out of it looking anything other than grasping and desperate or incompetent and clueless. I have no idea what I'd cook and while I enjoy cooking I don't think I'm especially skilled at it. I also fear a disaster in the kitchen which once on tape would haunt me forever.

True I do sit around thinking about what I'm going to eat next or even tomorrow. If I have a random ingredient to use up I spend a ridiculous amount of time trawling the internet and poring over my cookbooks to find a suitable recipe. Usually I find one that requires yet more ingredients so I end up with even more in the cupboard which I'll need to use up at a later date. This is why I make banana cake so often - we buy a lot of bananas and if they go a bit soft or spotty I won't eat them. The plus side is I don't like cooked bananas so Hubbie and our friend Jan are the main beneficiaries of my baking prowess, so I don't end up piling on the pounds and I appear altruistic.

When Hubbie cooks a special meal for me he will find a recipe that requires at least 12 ingredients (only 4 of which I have in) and I end up with bottles of rose essence, mustard seeds, desiccated coconut and curry leaves to use at a later date. The meal is always delicious and far more inventive than anything I would try, but then it is an annual effort so he does go to town a bit.

Of course cooking almost every day means there will be occasional mishaps and some of them are so bad they put you off that foodstuff for life.

Here - in no particular order - are some of the many disasters I have had in my years of cooking:

1. While rushing around in the world's smallest kitchen preparing food I dropped an entire bowl of homemade potato salad on the floor before a picnic with friends. Only one of them witnessed it and she is no longer in the circle so can't tell anyone when they might have tasted floor food.

2. The options were to steam for 30 minutes or to zap in the microwave for 10 minutes so for ease I did that latter and this meant we had an exploding rice filled lotus leaf with our beautifully marinated and steamed fish.

3. During an experimental phase with fruit and curry I made an ill-judged decision to put grapefruit in chicken curry. To quote Ross and Monica's dad Jack Geller, "it was not good."

4. In an attempt to use up a box of mangos left by my Dad for my son (which he didn't like) I decided to make my own sorbet / ice cream. I managed to do the stirring every few hours bit for most of the day then forgot and left it overnight. Lets just say it needs to be taken out of the freezer a few hours before eating in order to break into it - yes it is a bit too frozen.

5. I had a pot of quark that I had used about one spoonful of and needed to finish so I had the genius idea to make mushroom pate with it instead of greek yoghurt. The taste was pretty good, but it was quite sloppy. Of course my guests were far too polite to comment on the runniness of the starter.

And the ones that I got away with:

When working in the staff kitchen in Sainsburys I managed to seriously burn the sponge pudding so I poured some lemon icing over it and was astounded at the compliments I got for my "treacly citrus pudding." 

I found a load of seeds and nuts that I'd bought while pregnant and not finished so I adapted my usual cookie recipe to include them. The results were not to my taste, but by all accounts they were a hit with Hubbie's work colleagues. 

Only today I halved the quantities in a recipe for cookies, but a miscalculation meant I added double coconut into the mix. We have yet to find out what the consequences of this error are as the mix won't be cooked until it's been in the fridge overnight. 

Fingers crossed it won't be so bad it'll go into the first list !

To stay at home or not to stay at home that is the question...

Mother-in-law was asking me earlier this week about work. We'd just finished eating and I was still tired from two sleepless nights with a teething toddler, so I was only really half listening. Initially she asked if I had given up working and I said yes. Then she asked if I was going to look for another job and I said I wasn't sure, but I'd probably look for something that fitted round my boy's busy schedule. She then went on to tell me how it's so much nicer to stay at home with your children and it was simpler in her day as you could do that.

This morning there was a discussion on the radio about women 'having it all' and whether or not it was possible or preferable to work or be a full time mum. As I was driving back from an aerobics class while Hubbie and toddler were out doing father and son activities I only caught two soundbites. One was a woman saying that women should never give up work. The other was that men can have it all because they have women to do the other stuff for them.

I stayed at home with my boy for the first year of his life and that was a bare minimum for me to feel ready to leave him. Then I went back to work - ostensibly full time, but with flexible hours and a lot of leave to use up. I hated being at work while others looked after my boy. He was with family members as my sister and Hubbie did the childcare so he was always with people who love him very much. I missed him so much and my work just didn't appeal any more. When the offer of voluntary redundancy came up we discussed if it would work for us and Hubbie agreed that we could manage if I stayed at home. I loved being with my son every day and took him to playgroups and activities every day.

Then a few months ago I found myself feeling fed up. My life seemed to be about waiting for my boy to nap then while he was asleep preparing for him to wake up. I cooked most evenings and my son ate home cooked food every day. He got so used to me that he would greet Daddy enthusiastically and look disappointed if it was just me - AGAIN.

A job came up locally which I decided to do a few days a week to see how it went and if it would suit me to work as my boy was older now (although still under 2 and increasingly cheeky - of course). I did the job a few weeks and just knew it wasn't for me. I was in an office alone and the work was pretty soul destroying. What had started out as a way to have some time for myself and to spend time with other adults became a long walk at lunchtime sandwiched between massive boredom either side. Another discussion with Hubbie about the pointlessness of doing a job that was making me so miserable led to my deciding to give my notice.

This brings us right up to date with my conversation with MiL. Women of her generation do have a different perspective on how to raise children. It took me and Hubbie a long time to have our son so it was important to me that I raise him and care for him as I didn't have him to farm him out to childminders. My mother didn't have any choice and had to work despite having four children. Her perspective is broadly the same and she encourages me to stay at home if I can while understanding (a lot better than MiL I suspect) how hard it is to work and raise a family.

The phrase 'having it all' is misleading:

Women work because we want to or because we need to
We have children and raise them because we want to or can do
We try and do both because we have to or because we are led to believe we are supposed to

The messages we get about being a Mum are:

Being a Mum is not enough to be 'a job'
Working and trying to raise your children will mean you are not doing a good job of either
Being dedicated to your work makes you a poor parent

So I find myself once again tackling the thorny issue of whether to work or not. If I work we can have a few nicer things and maybe a holiday. It means the pressure is not on Hubbie to bring home the Quorn bacon so he can still have some family life and not be a wage slave to support us all.

If I stay at home I get to raise our boy with our values, our boundaries and to watch my little boy grow into a confident and engaging little man before my eyes. I can look at him and beam with pride when he says "bless you" for someone who sneezes or does all the actions to Incy Wincy spider, or strokes the cat gently after weeks of being told not to pull his tail. It also means I get all the tantrums, the throwing, the refusing to do as he's told and hearing the word "no" so many times I cannot tell you.

I've said before that I don't want to have it all. I just want to have a son who feels happy and secure. A Hubbie who is happy and feels appreciated and loved. A family who feel they are part of my son's life and valued. Oh and if there is room for one more wish I'd like this body in a size ten please.

24 Creme Eggs in 30 days… Go !!!

Going through the 'treats cupboard' one evening this week I found a stockpile of chocolate oranges (obviously) and 4 multipacks of Creme eggs - that's 24 actual eggs. To explain, I have a cupboard where I keep chocolate and 'treats.' I've found that if I don't have chocolate in the house it's all I can think about and I feel anxious - I know this is not normal - so I keep a supply to hand.

As I was an overweight child my treats intake was controlled, but I recall always wanting to have more of the sweet stuff. Even now I have rules and regulations around sweets and chocolate. Chocolate for breakfast is only allowed at Easter and at Christmas (after some semblance of normal breakfast food). Only one chocolate a day is allowed under normal circumstances - any more than that constitutes a crisis, a bad break up or a particularly weepy movie. This is where Cadburys' new treat bags have really messed with my rules as on a day when I'm being really greedy I count a whole bag as one treat when in reality it's probably three or four disguised as one bag of mini munchies. 

I suspect it goes back to my Mother having a 'treats box' when we were children which we were only allowed to have with permission and only occasionally. I strictly control the chocolate consumption of the household and no one is allowed the last of any chocolate without checking if it is ok. In a previous life my other half ate an entire pack of wagon wheels (six !! six wagon wheels !!) while I was out and when I asked why he said he was hungry. Why he couldn't make a sandwich is beyond me, but that was his reason. That was when I instituted the "ask before eating the last bar" policy. 

Luckily Hubbie is a very understanding chap so he knows that the rule is help yourself to anything from the fruit bowl, but check before taking anything from the treats section. My son is already keen on fruit and today he enjoyed grapes plucked from the stalks rather than picked by Mummy and put in a bowl first. Of course if offered chocolate he loves it, but I am delighted that when he fancies a snack he asks for an apple (or ap-poo as he calls it). 

So back to the Creme egg saga. I know the season for Easter eggs is now ridiculously long, but for some reason I felt the need to buy a lot of them this year. Hence the stockpile. I do randomly date check the items in the cupboard to ensure we don't end up wasting food that sits there well past it's best before date. On checking the eggs it appears we have to finish them all by the end of this month. It's a job for a professional and I think I'm up to the task - with Hubbie's help of course. 

All creatures great and small

At the weekend two horses died as a result of taking part in the Grand National - a race generally seen as very hard on both riders and horses. Once again people have raised issues of safety and animal welfare in a sport where horses have a 'shelf life' just as the dogs in greyhound racing do. For me this raises the ugly question of whether we have the right as humans to use animals for our entertainment.

Of course as someone who shares their house with a cat we have plenty of entertainment of the feline kind. Only yesterday Hubbie was looking out of the kitchen window and said "who is that at the end of the garden ?" He meant the tabby cat who is a newcomer to our garden, but I thought he meant the fox that was tiptoeing his way towards the cat. We scrambled to get outdoor shoes on to chase off the fox and I quipped that if I had a red coat and a horse we wouldn't have this problem. In the early days of our courtship me and Hubbie took part in a debate about fox hunting where we took opposite points of view. It's not the first time I've had that discussion and I still cannot fathom how anyone can see fox hunting as a fun day out rather than a brutal 'sport.' I don't see the appeal of chasing a fox using a pack of dogs and surely being drunk in charge of a horse is just irresponsible ?

I have the same problem with zoos, so not taking my son to see the animals is something I will have to explain to him when he is older. In the same way I'm sure he will want to know why Mummy doesn't eat meat. I stopped eating meat in my teens mostly as I read an interview with Madonna where she said that vegetarians are thinner and paler (yes at the age of 13 I cared what she said !) but also as I was horrified by how animals were kept and cared for in order to be eaten. Battery farming especially made me very distressed so seeing the free range hens that live a few doors away makes my heart sing every morning.

About 15 years later I went through an experimental phase with meat. I had been struggling with IBS for a few years and took advice to get some tests to see if it was the food I was eating. The testing was pretty dubious and I was told I was 'intolerant' to wheat, caffeine, peppers, onions, cabbage, red wine, etc. The usual rubbish that you get when you go for a non medical or 'natural' explanation is to cut out wheat, dairy and sugar, ie. all the nice foods. As a veggie I pretty much lived on pasta and potatoes so to be told that my staple foods were off the menu came as something of a shock and left me with few options (or so I thought). I started to eat some chicken then slowly reintroduced other foods that I hadn't eaten for over a decade. To be honest I found meat really uninteresting and dull. It didn't inspire creativity and frankly I'd have preferred to just be able to eat toast. A few years ago I decided again that I prefer not to eat meat and as it is so much more normal now than it was when I first became veggie and the choices are better.

I still vacillate on the decision about whether or not to eat fish and it is one that vexes me as I am always  on the brink of giving it up. I do really enjoy fish though and despite my high minded ideals there has to be space for enjoyment in life doesn't there ?  Speaking of which I did try being a vegan at university (didn't we all ?) and was exhausted, spotty and pale as well as very hungry all the time. I mean who can live without a piece of cake and a cup of tea (no soy or rice milk just doesn't cut it I'm afraid). I admire those who can eat well on a limited diet, but frankly my body was built on chocolate, chips and cheese. Oh, and the occasional piece of buttery toast.

Chocolate, chocolate everywhere...

On the way to visit my family today we saw a parade of churchgoers walking alongside the road we were driving on. Some were carrying crosses and Hubbie pointed out to our boy that this was taking place. It reminded me that for some people Easter is about a lot more than chocolate eggs and Bond movies on the telly. For my family it is pretty much about chocolate, eating food and hanging out for the long weekend. In particular for me it's catching up with as many Come Dine With Me episodes as possible and telling myself that I'm not going to ruin my diet and pig out (which is not helped when Hubbie has given me a chocolate Percy Pig !!)

I should know this, but I have no idea why we associate Easter with chocolate eggs. It might be that Cadbury were particularly hot on selling the idea of an ovoid filled with fondant and created a parallel celebration to the resurrection. Maybe sales start flagging at this time of year with Valentine's Day and Mother's Day gone - after all Father's Day isn't until June. It's not really much of a chocolate day anyway since Red Letter Days sold us on the idea of vouchers for adrenaline events so that grown men can pretend to be James Bond instead of just watching Daniel Craig drive fast cars.

My own conspiracy theory is that it's the diet industry that creates all these food related celebrations so that we are always fighting to lose weight for something. The post Christmas diet, the pre-holiday diet, the pre and post Easter diet, it's never ending !! Many moons ago when I was still at university I stayed at the student house over Easter to do some work and was following a low fat diet plan. Of course I was twenty years younger than I am today so I was already slimmer to start with, but it's the only time I've actually lost weight over Easter as instead of eating chocolate I was exercising every day and eating sensibly.

The problem with everyone knowing you love chocolate is that there is so much of it out there and even when you say you don't want any it still finds you. The Easter Bunny has been very generous to us this year, so I'm going to pace myself and hopefully the damage won't leave me looking ovoid !

Flippin' pancakes

All of us know that we can eat pancakes any day we choose, there is no reason why we wait until Shrove Tuesday, but sure enough the day rolls around and out come the crepe pans and the Jif lemon (unused since last year usually) and an assortment of different toppings. In our house we have the traditional lemon and sugar, Nutella, banana and maple syrup, fresh fruit and occasionally a savoury option on offer. A few years ago I even bought a heart shaped pan so I could incorporate the two big days together and we could have romantic valentine themed pancakes.

I have, however learned a lesson about making pancakes, it's simple and I'm going to share it with you. If you use large eggs in baking recipes they go ever so slightly wrong. Pancake batter is pretty forgiving so it doesn't cause too much trauma. Cakes and biscuits, however, don't allow for an error with a basic ingredient. Sinking and soggy in the middle - and that's just how I feel when I look in on the disaster that was supposed to be a delicious teatime snack and is now a doorstop. Poor Hubbie ends up eating all the mistakes and disasters and as a result he's taken up running again.

It's another of those 'life is unfair' moments when you realise that for a man to lose weight he just needs a partner who ensures there's nothing fattening in his packed lunch or the cupboard when he gets home. For a woman to lose weight it takes leaving home or stomach stapling or a gastric band. I'm not inclined to do any of these just yet so during this period that we will call the winter fat months (Valentine's chocolate, pancake peril, Easter egg tasting practice) I will be mostly running round the house chasing my son.

Tomorrow morning we'll have some small pancakes with the boy so he can experience the joy of pancake day (albeit a day later). Thankfully he loves most things we eat so chopped banana and maple syrup on a scotch pancake should be a magical treat compared with his usual weetabix brekkie. You never know I might even make pancakes another day just for the fun of it if he likes them.

If you're having pancakes enjoy a squeeze of lemon and a sprinkle of sugar on my behalf. 

Let them eat cake. Them, not me.

At this moment I have about 5 boxes and tins full of cake and cookies in my kitchen. I've got red velvet cake, gingerbread, banana loaf, chocolate brownies, carrot cake and good old Victoria sponge. Before you panic that I've gone a bit loopy they were left over from a cake sale to raise money for the premature baby charity Bliss.

While I type this I'm watching Gok Wan's TV show about teens and body image which is making me feel like a total pig for even having cake in the house. Like a lot of women I have a schizophrenic relationship with food, eating and my body. I took some photos at the cake sale to send to Bliss. I'm in some of them and when I saw myself I realised that I look bigger than I think I am right now. The fact that I've been exercising every day since 28th Dec and being careful with what I eat and yet I still appear to be gaining weight is very frustrating. Even more so now I have a worktop covered in delicious tempting treats.

I've never been someone who eats an entire packet of biscuits or a whole cake or loaf of bread. I am a grazer and can happily munch away without realising how much I've actually consumed. The way I've always dealt with weight gain has been to exercise (a lot) and to control my food intake or to skip meals altogether. This is simple to do when you are single, go to work and only have to take care of yourself, actually it's even manageable when you have a partner. When I was at work I'd strictly manage how much food I ate and went to the gym or for a run at lunchtime. Now I'm at home I exercise when my boy is asleep (or weather permitting take a hike up the hill with him in his buggy) and eat once he and the cat are dealt with. I made a promise to myself to never eat from his plate or to finish his leftovers. To my horror I've found a stray piece of fishfinger in my mouth as I've been clearing his plate and the justification that it's a waste to throw it away is never far from my mind.

In general I've tried to embrace the idea that taking care of my boy is far more important than worrying about my appearance. However, this falls down when I see other mums looking great and fear that the family curse has set in already and I will be the size of my Aunty Bably if I don't take control of this situation soon. I love my Aunty, but I also remember how she was just as jolly when she was young and slim. When I was 11 and went to India she hung her long chiffon scarf to dry out of the window of a moving train, she slapped a man round the face for daring to drive his moped in the road in front of where we were about to cross and she laughed more than anyone I've ever met. She also ate voraciously and was delighted when I made us chips during a power cut in the village where my Grandmother was headteacher of the local school. It never occurred to me that my family's obsession with food and eating would leave a legacy of self-loathing and fear of loss of control.

The year before I fell pregnant I lost a lot of weight and was the slimmest I've ever been (as an adult). I was wearing size ten jeans for the first time in my life. This feat was made possible by focusing entirely on losing weight and thinking about practically nothing else at all. I wore a pedometer, wrote down everything I ate (which I still do, but the list of food is longer these days) and was weighed every week. It was a miserable, self-obsessed, but ultimately successful, way to do it.

So it would appear my choice is to be happy and jolly and overweight (as it is written) or to spend most of my life obsessing about everything I eat and how much I exercise. For now I just have to stay away from all the cake in the kitchen. Hubbie's job is to take it into work and get his colleagues to eat it. A kitchen free from temptation and guilt - now that really will be bliss.