I am sorry. I just can’t manage it. We are home from a frankly enormous lunch cooked by the boyfriend’s Italian father and although I had grand plans to bake you all white chocolate and cranberry cookies I’m not following through. I’m opting out.
I’m on the sofa. In comfy pants (think trackydaks but even less classy). I won’t be moving from this place until it’s time to retire upstairs, to bed. It’s been raining for approximately a month now, I’m sure that’s got something to do with the baking ennui. That and, maybe, the fact that the boyfriend and I spent 4hrs yesterday successfully constructing some flatpack furniture with nary a harsh word nor argument. Bit anticlimactic.
I did, this morning, attempt a rather more health version of Ottolenghi’s granola bars in a frankly misguided attempt to make a workday snack that had at least some fibre/positive health attributes. I replaced all his recipe’s sugar and honey with three tablespoons of golden syrup. Results below. Perfectly acceptable, especially with the addition of pumpkin and sesame seeds, however I’m not sure it’s got the power to cheer me up in the 3pm lull on a dim-lit afternoon. Sugar, eh. It’s the top shit.
Off to Rome in a week, though, so anyone left there celebrating the new Pontif had best stay out my way as I’ll be making a beeline for ALL the pasta and ALL the gelato. I’m a lucky bastard….