I hate it when the ingredients list of a recipe ends with ‘a little bit of milk.’ What’s that supposed to mean, eh? Why, after being very precise with the measures of the other ingredients, does it have to go rogue with the vague amount of ‘little bit of milk’? You know precisely what’s going to happen when you start making whatever it is your are making, in this case ‘Soul Cakes.’ You mix all the ingredients together and then you tackle the ‘little bit of milk’ part. And find your ‘little bit of milk’ is at first too little and then not little enough, so you add a smidge of something dry to absorb the excess milk, which renders the mix too dry again, so you have another go at a ‘little bit of milk’ and it all gets out of hand, and you end up with a massive dollop of something that you just KNOW will resemble either a) a rock b) a vat of porridge or c) an alien cast member from ‘Quatermass’ by the time it emerges from the oven.
Luckily, I have been baking for well over 45 years, so have much experience in getting a ‘little bit of milk’ just right. This morning, I made some Soul Cakes in celebration of the festival of Samhain, which starts today with All Hallow’s Eve. I’ve never made them before and, to be honest, I only made them as a kick back against all the hideous commercialism that seems to misrepresent this time of year because we live in 21st century and seem to be making a right mess of remembering what it is to be human. The original purpose of Hallowe’en was to remember and celebrate the lives of our ancestors, and not to scare the bejeezus out of people and demand free goods (sweets, cakes, money) by banging mercilessly on some stranger’s door, dressed in toilet paper in pretence of being an Egyptian mummy, or other some such nonsense. Really, it is appalling. Celebrate, yes - but thoughtfully and respectfully. I’m such an old grouch, aren’t I? Hallowe’en wasn’t really a ‘thing’ when I was a child. We concentrated on Bonfire Night instead.
Anyway, Soul Cakes. Here they are:
A hybrid of a shortbread biscuit and a scone. Very nice. And, so the mystery goes, for every Soul Cake consumed, a soul is saved from Purgatory. I can think of a few of my ancestors who are probably stuck in this limbo state, and I like to imagine that today I’ve sent two of them on their way to Heaven!
Today, I’m also having a mild but prolonged attack of BPPV, also known as benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. This occurs every few months or so - it is triggered when I turn over in bed at night, and the room start rocking and spinning, which in turn makes me feel properly nauseous. It’s due to movement of calcium crystal formations in the semi-circular canals in the ear upsetting the sense of balance. I’ve learned to perform the Epley Movement on myself which helps settle things, and by the time I wake in the morning the attack has gone, or has at least abated so I can get up and on with my day. I just have to be careful when bending over that I don’t overbalance and smack my head on any nearby walls. Or, as almost happened this morning when I was feeding Edith and Sidney, fall head first into one of their rabbit holes.
I’m snuggled on the sofa, then, with my slightly dizzy head, Bambino Bobble Wilson, a Terry Pratchett novel, tea and Soul Cakes to hand, ready to release a couple more souls into the Great Beyond. Not a bad way to spend 31st October, eh?
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