Matzah Monday. Hot Cross Buns Friday.

Serves me right for eating the Maltesers that were meant to be for the decoration. Bad Nickers.

Caramelised apple and Calvados soufflés/flops

After a rough start, leaving the mandolin, apple corer, icing sugar and milk at home, Moomsy saved the day with her improvisation skills and Woolies drive-by and everything seemed to be on track. I didn't bang anything about, I was annaul with the measurements, my peaks were stiff (egg whites that is) and we'd fingered the rim just like George said to. 15 mins later, when they were golden, we took 'em out  just like the recipe said (first pic) and I stuffed my face with one. VERY tasty, but texture was a bit like raw cake. We popped the remaining three back in the oven and they grew like they were on roids. Amazing. I thought we'd nailed it and expected Masterchef to come bursting through the kitchen window and invite me to be their guest chef in the finale. 15 minutes later...boom. They collapse. Listen, you can't say they don't have character and hell, with the amount of butter, sugar and liqueur in there, i assure you they taste like heaven. The just look a little like an elderly man's ball sack (i've been told).

Recipe can be found here if you want to have a crack.

Les Mills, if you don't bring back Paradise City and Night Train to Fitness First RPM, I may have to find a less monotonous place to ride a bicycle..

While the others year 8's were playing Louie Louie in clarinet class, I insisted on learning Hadaway's 'What is Love?' (and 'Ride on Time' by Black Box, but I'm not as proud of that one). Now 20 years on, the passion for this track has died down somewhat, so you can imagine my double displeasure when a) Fitness First decided to stop playing copyrighted music due to the massive tariffs and b) I have to hear a cheesy cover of 'What is Love?' four times a week, before 7am. Vom.

Now, there are only so many things that can distract one from the monotony of all of this RPM cover music. They are listed in no particular order. There's the bike short clad man, who indeed is not the right shape, nor secreting the right fragrance to be wearing such attire. He always rocks up late so i have no way of politely escaping him and sits his sweaty testicles as close to me as possible. There's the rotund lady who usually sits in front of me whose bra is way too big/lacy/agile/non-existent and her nogs swing about like Mr Doo-Bee's bouncing balls, sometimes causing me to lose my balance. Occasionally there's a bloke with nice arms who sits in the front row so i can alternate my attention between him and the two anorexic ladies who should indeed get a good dozen of my lemon ricotta doughnuts up them.

I shouldn't just flag the offensive distractions. There are some pleasant ones too. My instructor Kim is bloody funny and rants on about her sleep-walking kids and how she accidentally took them to Flower Drum for some quick springers, without realising it was actually one of Australia's finest dining Cantonese restaurants. And the intermittent bake exchange with Pam which makes everyone drool as well as drip man juice and nullifies the exercise. 

Despite having so many colourful things to preoccupy myself with/protect myself from in RPM classes, I can't help but long for Gunners and Billy Idol, and even Bobby Brown in a weird way. I hate you Copyright Tribunal of Australia. You are dogs and should be put down.

Hot Cross Buns for Anzac Day

This year, it so happened that i was shoveling whale and foie gras into my gob while you were munching on bunny ears, or matza if you were less lucky. Upon my return from Nihon, I spotted the Easter edition of Gourmet Traveller sparkling in my pile of mail and figured that now i have more than a bar fridge and humidifier at my disposal, I would give these puppies a crack. My Apple and Cinnamon Hot Cross  Buns were awesome. The kneading and resting and expanding took their freaking time, but they only required 20 mins in the oven and after a quick slop of apple-lemon-cinnamon-syrup, all my Easters had come at once. And dad, as the cross part was made out of plain flour and water, I can also say i also had a nominal Pesach.

Angel-Cake turn Mushroom-Cake.

This is starting to be a regular occurrence for what once was my trusty Angel Cake. The only consistent factor in all of the collapses is the ambient room temperature. It seems all my friends birthdays lately have fallen on a 32 - 38 degree day and within one hour of turning the cake upside-down to cool, it takes a massive tumble. This most recent time, I thought i would be smart and let it cool overnight in my air-conditioned bedroom. Bau Baum. Despite being by my side, the bastard had a tantrum. I will try some cream of tartar next time (advice from a pro), but if Angel fails me again, I might just have to shelf the recipe for a bit and wait for this global warming business to chill out.

Monkey like banana.

Al-fa-jaw (alfajor)

My Spanish is rubbish so I couldn't pronounce these puppies correctly while I was in Argentina but I loved them nonetheless. Think dulce de leche (sickly sweet evaporated condensed milk) sandwiched with yummy biscuits and coated in chocolate. Mm mm. Probably has the total recommended daily calorie intake in one bite but well worth the indulgence.

"These pretzels are making me thirsty".

Herbed pretzels out of my Snowflakes and Schnapps book. 3rd successful recipe. Admittedly they do look like albino turds before they're baked but thankfully the buttery garlic/dill flavour doesn't resemble anything vacating one's rear end.