The July 2010 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Sunita of Sunita’s world – life and food. Sunita challenged everyone to make an ice-cream filled Swiss roll that’s then used to make a bombe with hot fudge. Her recipe is based on an ice cream cake recipe from Taste of Home.
(and let’s just say that it’s taken me a big kick in the you-know-where in order for me to rise to this particular challenge.)
(…or how I made peace with a fish.)
I get nervous about fish.
They don’t seem to like me.
Perhaps someone told them about the time I managed to kill ten goldfish in a single year. I didn’t mean to – they’d be swimming around happily one day, and then two weeks later…
(Interestingly, when I handed over the fish-rearing-reigns to my father, the pair we had at the time lived for ten years. Until I was left to watch them for two weeks.)
And perhaps, just maybe, my fish-rearing-skills have left me slightly damaged. Unable to cook much more than a fillet of salmon (sear skin side down, wait… wait… flip, sear, serve) or instant fish fingers (roll onto oven tray, bake, eat soggy fish fingers because-I-suck-at-instant-food).
Until now.
The Bean, she has a rabbit. And that rabbit’s name is Ah-Bee.
The rabbit was named after a soft-toy-long-lost-at-Dreamworld, and the soft toy after the moniker given to the Bean as a child. Ah-Bee, you see, is loosely translated as “baby duckling”, and boy can that girl pout.
I have a new nickname at work.
It’s not a bad nickname, just an all-too-observant comment on my breakfast. And snack-time meal. And post-lunch treat. And tummy-rumble-turn-to-treat.
It’s the cinnamon that tips them off. That and the scent of freshly buttered, toasted something wafting out of my office and down the hallway.
“Hey hot-cross-bun” they will call out, as the smell hits their tables “hungry again are ya?”
“It has been more than a month, you know.”
I looked up from my bowl of noodles, head to one side, an expression on my face that could possibly be interpreted as “No, really?” or “I’m not hearing you right, am I?” or “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that right so you repeat yourself, because truly, it can’t be so.”
He nodded, a slice of pork parcel poised between his chopsticks.
“Since your last post. November 3rd. I checked just the other day.”
My forehead grew furrows. It can’t have been. It was only the other day that…
“Focaccia. You made it for my lunch and brought it to the picnic. I hope it isn’t because… well… I like that you blog. So please don’t stop, ok?”
