Martha's Marvellous Munchies

...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