This time last year I was baking regularly. There were many reasons for that- comfort eating, the need to achieve something, yumminess. I blogged about it then.
I was never going to be a housewife. Even Betty Draper didn’t want to be a housewife. I’ll keep the top layer of grub away and spend ages looking at design blogs, but I’m never actually going to be creative. As well as two left feet, I have two left hands and a lack of interest in the presumed housewifey activities.
Then I left work. I’m at home most of the time. If reading blogs and sleeping during the day are part of the job description, then I might have turned into a housewife. I’m still not sure how to process that.
In many ways I’m like my grandmother. I’m taller than she was and have opted for blonde rather than raven black, but I have her pear shape and pointy nose. I’d love her domestic abilities. She spent her working life in service- as a maid, cook, housekeeper. She fed her family by developing and using her domestic skills. I wonder now if she had to train one of her left hands to do what was required to survive in that world? I have so many choices that she never had. She was renowned for her baking, while my children have only recently discovered that cakes don’t have to come from shops.
Inspired by food blogs such as The Glutton, Italian Foodies, Donal and others, I’m beginning to look at receipes- the easiest, quickest ones that everybody will eat, it’s true- and at food as something which might be a bit more than just nourishment.
And I have discovered what generations of women have always known- the value of cake. I get to
beat the shit out of vent my frustrations on a load of ingredients. I get to feel all pleased with myself that ‘look, I made that cake’ and then. There is cake to eat. The gift that keeps on giving.
Now, I’m avoiding such sweetness. I’m trying to lose weight. I haven’t baked in months. My family would love to eat cake. Instead, they’re recognising what it says on a coaster somewhere about “Help, Mummy’s on a diet and we’re all going to die!”
Top parenting there, Speccy.
Sidey‘s weekend theme: let them eat cake