Firstly, apologies Dear Blogge for abandoning you lately. See, I’ve kinda been hibernating a bit – going inward as it were – and then there was all that horrible business of last week happening to our neighbour to the south, and well…my muse took a much longer holiday as a result.

So, Christmas happened and please allow me an indulgence here as I post about a baking misadventure from way back then. I really did plan to post about this in a more timely fashion. However, THAT never happened. So I humbly offer this as my entry into the first virtual tea party of 2021.

Allow me another indulgence to give you some backstory. The very first trifle I ever attempted was for a Christmas staff party at my work, back in about 1983. I know – ballsy, right? I was full of youthful energy and conceit confidence then and thought: how hard can it be, really? Cake, pudding, whipped cream, fruit, booze. Throw it together in a dish. Done. I had been intrigued by a recipe in Canadian Living magazine for something called Black Forest Trifle, and decided that was what I was going to bring.

Back in those childless, early-married days, I thought nothing of spending a whole day in the kitchen whipping up any recipe that caught my fancy so the fact that these instructions had you make EVERYTHING from scratch didn’t faze me in the least.

I brought the trifle to the potluck and added it to the other offerings. I don’t remember much of that particular meal except that at the conclusion, the big boss/owner of that particular lab asked “Ummm…who brought the trifle?”

I froze. This guy…Dr. Whatsisname…was English as all get out. What was I thinking, bringing my first attempt at England’s national dessert (it is, isn’t it?) to this goddamn lunch affair?!?! Dr. Whatsisname (sorry, I really have forgotten his name) continued in his plummy accent…”I consider myself to be something of a connoisseur when it comes to trifle. Who made this one?” I gulped and hesitantly put up my hand.

“Oh?” he continued, appearing mildly surprised that “the baby” of the lab – his youngest employee – had pulled off this culinary feat.

“I have to tell you that this is the best trifle that I have ever tasted.”

WELL. I hadn’t seen THAT coming in the armageddon of embarrassment scenarios that had been flashing before my mind’s eye since he asked about the trifle. This proved the recipe was clearly a keeper and I painstakingly wrote it in my smallest handwriting onto not one but two recipe cards (I told you everything had to be made from scratch) and hung onto it for thirty-seven long years. And naturally, I never made it again (sigh).

Until this Christmas.

First up, a few days before Christmas I made the almond macaroons to crumble onto the cake and jam layers.

Then I made the chocolate sponge cake.

It was Christmas Eve and there was no more time for fucking around experimentation. I ran to the grocery store and got the supplies I needed to pull this thing off.

Because of the pandemic, Christmas was going to be a bit of a drive-by visit rather than an actual one. In the late afternoon, I packed up the trifles and Christmas goodies and brought them over to my daughter’s place. They had my step-grandkids with them for the holidays (from the plague-land mainland, so the decision was made that it be best we stay apart unless we could meet outdoors, for the duration of their visit). I exchanged the trifles for containers full of 3 days’ worth of Christmas dinner deliciousness, and went back to my place. The trifles were very well received. Although no “best trifle ever” accolades were forthcoming. Those are still held by the fresh berry trifles I made last summer.

And there went another Christmas into the history books…and one for the history books! All things Covid-19 considered, it wasn’t that awful and certainly not the first Christmas I have spent alone.

There was only one thing left to be done, though.

Thank you for allowing all these indulgences…and for joining me in this month’s Virtual Tea Party – hosted by Del and Su. 

Rock on,

The WB

Well, it wouldn’t be 2020 if I wasn’t having some tasty yet spectacular fails in the kitchen, now would it?

First up – my attempt to make a dupe for Claxton Fruit Cake. Gluten-free, no less. I kinda mashed together the best bits of 2 copycat recipes I found on Ye Olde Interwebs, and was generous with some Kraken.

This no-bake fruitcake tastes very similar to what I remember of Claxton fruitcakes, but is very sticky and goopy, and super sweet. I blame the sweetened condensed milk. It was definitely NOT THE RUM I GENEROUSLY EMBELLISHED THE RECIPE WITH. Next year I will use less of the milk and keep the rum…maybe even add more rum. So there.

I tried to use up all the fruitcake mistake as best as I could. Created a trifle out of the damned thing and foisted it upon my “bubble”. It was well received.

Other fails from this month include repeated attempts to make rustic, gluten-free loaves of bread, with yeast. Otherwise known as “doorstops”. No picture can capture the true extent of the denseness of these bread fails. The black holes of baking.

Moving on.

One of my successes was rum balls (requested by my daughter). Except I couldn’t get the chocolate hail to stick to the balls as I was rolling them in the hail. But you know what solved that problem? MORE KRAKEN. Hehehe!

And then there was my attempt to make gluten-free boterkoek (Dutch butter cake). I just subbed GF flour for regular – the rest of the recipe stayed the same.

And then there was an old standby (and much needed by this point): Homemade Irish Cream Liqueur. AKA Bailey’s. My only change to this recipe was to use an espresso shot instead of instant coffee. Because I has the technology!

I’m done baking for now. Until just before Christmas, when I promised to make a black forest trifle for the day itself. A recipe I haven’t attempted since I was newly married (the FIRST time) and didn’t know any better had the time and energy to create it entirely from scratch. Even the custard.

Pray for me.

Thank you for joining me in this month’s Virtual Tea Party – hosted by Del and Su. 

Rock on,

The WB