Martha's Marvellous Munchies

Many of the cakes I make at work come from a book of designs, mainly produced by Decopac . We are supposed to only make cakes from these designs. Often, however, customers come in with a picture or idea and ask if we can make it for them. Always up for a challenge, I usually agree. I then try and get a snap of the finished article with my mobile phone. And I thought you all might like to see what I do all day... A co-worker asked if I could draw frogs. Funnily enough, owing to an incident in my teenage years (involving a friend with a boyfriend called Frog and the signing of end-of-school shirts), I could. This cute cupcake cake was the result. This is what his family wanted. I'm not sure what David thought of the idea. However, my newly-acquired airbrushing skills were put to good use. See, I haven't forgotten all my chemistry! Not quite there, but it's quite difficult to make an irregular hexagon into a kitten. You will notice that this is another cupcake cake

Making the most of both our Texas State Parks pass and a sunny Saturday, we ventured out to tick Cleburne State Park off our list. It's relatively local - less than an hour away - and we had often driven by on the main highway, but not yet turned off for a visit. The park is not a particularly large one. We walked almost all the way around the edge in just a couple of hours, with disappointingly few views of the central reservoir, but plenty of rugged ups and downs and a few pretty streams to cross. And - excitingly - a scattering of shell and ammonite fossils. It's pretty awesome to think that the rock your trainer soles are now scuffing was once mud way down on the sea bed - and to kneel down and stroke the ridges that immortalise one of the creatures that lived and died there, millions of years ago. Quite a big beastie. Rock by the lake outflow. The lake. A bit of Texas countryside. Autumn leaves.

...and we have a Christmas tree! This is the first Christmas tree we've had since we got married (you may all say "awww" now) so we really splashed out and bought the decorations from Walmart. Seriously though, it is a responsibility. I'm pretty sure many of my parents' Christmas decorations date from the early days of their marriage; it was a humbling feeling to be sizing up baubles with the knowledge that we might well be digging those very same baubles out of their dusty box in the attic in 30 years time. Nothing does longevity like a Christmas ornament. In which case, of course, we also need some dusty photos to dig out along with the decorations, to show the very first time they were used. Thus we have Graham decorating the tree, and Martha decorating the mantelpiece. The ones of Graham with baubles dangling from his ears and Martha wrapped in tinsel will not be appearing on this blog. Some things should not be shown to future generations (or present

Over the last few years I have been involved in testing the idea that you can put virtually anything in a chocolate cake. Prunes, cinnamon, ginger, even mashed potato. (The mashed potato one is really good, actually, but involves about six separate bowls. Definitely a special-occasion recipe.) Thus far, however, I had never entered the realm of alcoholic chocolate cakes. A recipe in Food & Wine magazine and a half-bottle of leftover wine in the fridge changed all that. I present to you Chocolate-Red Wine Cake, with apologies to my UK readers for the American measures. 1 cup is 8 fluid ounces. Use a measuring jug. Chocolate-Red Wine Cake 2 cups all-purpose (plain) flour 3/4 cup cocoa powder 1 1/4 tsp baking soda (bicarbonate of soda) 1/2 tsp salt 2 sticks (8 oz) unsalted butter 1 3/4 cups sugar 2 large eggs 1 tsp vanilla extract 1 1/4 cups dry red wine Preheat oven to 350F / 180C. Grease and flour a 12-cup bundt pan (I used a 9" springform tin with a ring insert

The calf shot from the starting gate, with the horse and its rider in close pursuit. Before it had covered more than a few yards, it was brought up short by a loop of the lasso falling around its neck. Already the cowboy was off his horse and running along the taut line. Moments later the calf was on the ground with a rope wrapped tightly around fore and hind legs. The clock on the wall read just 5 and 13 hundredths of a second as the rider mounted his horse and two men ran out to untie the helpless bovine. It was a Friday night and we were at the rodeo in Fort Worth Stockyards. John and Kristal, my brother and his new wife, were in town, and we were determined to give them the true Texas experience. Which is not complete until you've seen a bunch of cowboys wrestling with cattle. As well as the calf-roping competition, there were a surprising number of guys willing to take their life in their hands and try and stay on the back of a bucking bronco. Six seconds was a pretty

A week in the UK goes remarkably quickly, especially when you pack it full of family and friends. The main excuse for our trip this time was Mike and Jan's wedding, a grand gathering of friends from Bristol and beyond. The bride and groom made their departure in a VW camper van, which was just fantastic - although someone really should have tied some walking boots and a climbing helmet to the back! Maybe the ribbon nose was a little more tasteful. The happy couple. The bride's dress was beautiful and the bridesmaids were very sophisticated too, in sleek grey dresses with cream trim. It was good to see lots of friends and find out what they're up to - from having babies and finding jobs to moving to Africa and starting new churches! Here's me with Nath and Zan: and me with Jen and Naomi. Midlife Crisis turned out some grand music in a decidedly chilly tent, which was obviously a ploy to keep everyone dancing. Hence the well-bundled-up look.

Saturday morning, 6:50 am. My phone bleeps. The assistant manager at work: Could you possibly come in today for a few hours? It's really busy. 7:10 am, after some deliberation: Yes, if I have to, but I'll be on overtime. Is that OK? 7:12 am: Ohhh... better check with the store manager. Small delay, during which Graham and I, being both well awake by this time, cook and eat a pancake breakfast. 7:55 am: Never mind about today. And you're not working tomorrow either. 7:57 am: What time do I come in on Monday? 8:04 am: You're off on Monday too. 8:05 am: Graham rushes to computer to research places to go for a weekend trip. By 11:30 am we're hitting the I-30 on our way to Hot Springs, Arkansas. Lake Ouachita (that's WASH-it-ah, not wah-CHEET-ah) at sunset Thus began one of the most impromptu weekends away I've ever done, going from expecting to work most of the weekend to being on holiday in a few short hours. By evening we had arrived at

The stuff of life. A ploughmans lunch in a country pub. Cheddar rolls for a picnic in the hills. Brie smeared on crusty French bread. Why, then, do Americans struggle so hard with the concept? It's not that you can't get decent bread and cheese over here. You can - if you go to posh shops and pay inflated prices. It's that the everyday stuff is so abysmal. Let's start with cheese. If you go to the regular packaged cheese section in the supermarket, there's a choice of about four varieties. The most flavoursome is the "sharp cheddar", which is about on a par with the mild Cheddar sold in the UK. What's worse is that the packets are all labeled "natural cheese". This makes me depressed every time I see it. What kind of a country is it where you can get unnatural cheese? And the citizens might not know the difference unless it's pointed out to them? THIS is what receives the proud title of "American cheese". Processed,

It is rare to find a place that has been planned and tended so carefully that every view, vista or passing glimpse is a beautiful one. It is even rarer that you can spend as long as you like in such a place for a mere dollar apiece. The Dallas Arboretum during August is just that place. Dallas skyline in the distance. An infinity pond merges seamlessly into White Rock Lake. The garden was planted on the grounds of two estates. I believe this was one of the original houses. For added interest, there were children's-story-themed playhouses dotted around. This rather abstract one is The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. I'd heard of this book a few times but never tracked down a copy, so was delighted to find an online text here . This next is Hansel and Gretel , of course. Disappointingly there was no view of a witch being pushed into the oven when you looked through the windows. Only some old chairs. Eragon by Christopher Paolini. He was 15 whe

We came home with tons of photos from our Virginia trip. Some of them don't really illustrate anything in particular, but are too good not to show off. Here's a selection. OK, so I know squirrels are just tree rats really, but they are cute. Especially when they're trying to eat a piece of bread as big as their head. Me in one of my favourite poses. We encountered a lot of pets on our trip. I was happy. Real birds in a fake tree. This was an art installation in Pittsburgh, and even close up it was hard to tell that the trees weren't real. The quintessential American country church. My aunt and uncle are renovating a house up in the mountains, and this newspaper, dated August 31st 1919, was pasted to one wall. Doesn't it seem incredible that the "fight for women's suffrage" happened so recently? Graham chillin' out with Mr Jefferson. Ummm... I seem to have got the Washington Monument stuck in my head...