Rosie Eats: Small Batch Blueberry Muffins

The other day, I was waiting in the queue at the leisure centre cafe (my home away from home, along with every other parent in this town) behind a well-dressed gentleman who was purchasing four single-wrapped slices of lemon cake.  

"This is my son's birthday cake," he explained to the lady standing between us.  "The problem with having a whole birthday cake is that you have it hanging around for days afterwards.  So we just do this instead."

Is that not the saddest thing you ever heard?  To celebrate a birthday with a single serving of cake?  That poor child, nobody deserves such treatment. 

I do, however, understand the more general point that this man was making.  Sometimes, you're in the mood for cake - but you don't want to be eating up leftover cake in the days that follow.  (I find myself often in this situation.  Sunday me always feels like cake, whereas Monday me is sometimes more restrained.  Sometimes.)  Anyway, the solution is not to buy a solitary portion - but rather, to find a small batch recipe that will provide you with something easy, delicious, and without leftovers.  

Small Batch Blueberry Muffins

This recipe makes six perfectly-sized muffins, which are best enjoyed fresh from the oven.  They bear no resemblance to the coffee shop staple blueberry muffins, but rather a tender-crumbed little cake bursting with warm pockets of fruit.  They're loosely based on a Mary Berry recipe, as so many good things are.  

140g plain white flour

1 tsp baking powder

40g caster sugar

grated zest of one (unwaxed) lemon

1 large egg

110ml full-fat milk

50g melted butter, slightly cooled

100g fresh blueberries

Put six paper muffin cases in a tin, and preheat the oven to 200℃.  

Put the flour, baking powder, sugar and lemon zest into a bowl and stir well.  Add the milk and egg to the melted butter and then pour into the dry ingredients.  Mix together gently, until there are no floury pockets to be seen.  Tip in the blueberries and stir through briefly.  

Spoon the mixture into the paper cases, and bake for 20 minutes until golden brown.  

Serve warm.

Monday Feelings

Rosie Reads: Top Four Books For Tiny People

One of my closest friends recently had a baby shower, and instead of gifts she requested that we bring copies of our favourite children's books to fill her new baby's bookcase.  I thought this was a lovely idea, and spent what was probably a disproportionate amount of time thinking about which books to give.  Many of the most popular options (The Hungry Caterpillar, The Tale of Peter Rabbit) were immediately snaffled by more organised attendees than me, but I wanted to pass on some books that my children loved to hear, that I loved to read, and that would stand the test of time.  

In case you find yourself in a similar situation, here are my picks for very tiny children.  

Clockwise from top left:

One Ted Falls Out of Bed - Julia Donaldson

You can't go wrong with anything by Julia Donaldson, but this lovely, straightforward story is one of my favourites.  The illustrations (by Anna Currey) are gorgeous and there's a counting scheme throughout which makes it a rhythmic and soothing choice for a bedtime read.

Orange Pear Apple Bear - Emily Gravett

I shamelessly enlist my four-year-old Rosie to read this book to her younger brother.  It's very simple, with no storyline to speak of - but both children love it.  The pictures are thoughtfully done, using muted colours against white pages - which gives the whole book a timeless feel.  

Clip-Clop - Nicola Smee

We were given this book in a Booktrust bag when the baby was born, and it's excellent.  (I find that Booktrust can always be relied on for smart choices.)  It's a nice way of introducing animals to little ones (and common, farmyard animals at that), and it's a good length for short attention spans.  

Each Peach Pear Plum - Janet & Allan Ahlberg

I know that Peepo is the Ahlbergs' most well-known work, and rightly so - but Each Peach Pear Plum still gets my vote.  It's peopled with characters that your children will start to recognise as they get older (Jack and Jill, Robin Hood), along with a familiar I spy structure.  It's a classic, and my much-loved copy has been heavily used for both my children. 

It's hard work to pick only a few books when there are so many wonderful choices out there for children - which ones did I miss, and which would you recommend?  

Rosie Eats: Cake Sale Baking

Rosie's school holds a cake sale once a term, and I must admit that my heart sinks when that little blue slip of paper appears in her book bag.  It's not the baking I mind - it's more that...well...Rosie will want to go to the cake sale.  The cake sale itself is possibly the most stressful school situation I've ever been in - yes, even beating that piano exam with the sight-reading section that brought me out in a cold sweat of paralysing fear.  

Let me explain.  The cake sale is always directly after school pick-up, so I'm toting the baby, plus the pushchair - and Rosie, her coat, her bags, and her daily mass of random scrawls artwork.  It's held in the hall, with its one small door in and out, and many gym mats/folding chairs/loose carpet tiles to trip over.  There are two hundred kids scrambling for cake, one hundred parents overheating in coats and scarves, several dozen smaller siblings getting lost under the tables, and OH MY GOD GRAB THE NEAREST CAKE AND LET'S ESCAPE THIS MADNESS BEFORE YOUR BROTHER STEALS ANY MORE BISCUITS.   

Ack.  Nobody warns you about these parental minefields. 

Anyway, back to the baking.  For a cake sale, a couple of things are important.  You need a cake that is:

• Portable (no fancy swirls of icing just begging to be squashed by an over-zealous cake transporter);
• Durable (no featherlight sponges which will rapidly fade to sad little crumbs after six hours in a humid school hall);
• Smallish (no filling-packed jumbo-cakes that have to be messily portioned up and stuffed into a sandwich bag).  

If you have a Rosie, you also have to include chocolate, or it just doesn't count. So we opted for something that could be easily stacked, wouldn't crumble in transit, and could be easily sliced into handy-sized pieces - picnic slices.  

These bars were a regular fixture of Sunday evenings when I was growing up, which goes some way to explaining my fondness for them.  They also smell divine while they're baking - I mean, no cake smells awful, but these scented the whole house with a warm, coconut-y fragrance that drew everyone to the kitchen.  

Rosie took the bowl and spoon onto the floor in her quest to scrape up every last smear of the mix:

I over-baked them a wee bit, so they were more chewy than the soft bars of my childhood memory - but they packed up into attractive little towers of deliciousness.  

And there you have it.  I'll take my I-survived-the-school-cake-sale medal whenever it's ready, thanks. 

On an unrelated note, here's what happens when your husband plays fast and loose with the butter knife.  

(Raw broccoli, my friends).  Sigh.  

Rosie Reads: The Book With No Pictures

This week's favourite library book comes courtesy of B.J. Novak, and is a welcomingly different take on your usual children's story.  As you'd imagine, it has no pictures or illustrations - and no storyline to speak of.  Instead, it's a play on the idea of narrating a story - something I wasn't sure if Rosie (aged four) would completely understand, but it turns out that she did...and found it pant-wettingly funny.  This was her favourite page:

Rosie's verdict:  "This book is SO HILARIOUS! I LAUGHED and LAUGHED."

If you liked this, try:  The Day The Crayons Quit.  

Rosie Eats: Lemon & Yogurt Cake

We've all got an ideal-parent version of ourselves in our heads, haven't we?  The kind of organised, patient parent that we're all striving to be, but who doesn't exist in any kind of reality.  My ideal version of myself has a fulfilling job and time to do her mascara, every day.  She also spends hours with her (perfectly behaved) children doing crafty-type activities during which she never gets stressed over the amount of glitter on the floor or glue on the cushions.  (I don't know how she does it.  She's a wonder.  And fictional, which helps.)  This is the kind of simple, wholesome cake I imagine she'd knock up effortlessly in ten minutes - in between doing the hoovering - so that when her children came through the door after school, they'd be greeted with the delicious smell of baking, a smiling mother, and a clean house.  

After School Lemon & Yogurt Cake

150g caster sugar

2 eggs

100g unsalted butter, melted

125ml plain full-fat yogurt

Zest of one lemon (unwaxed) 

200g plain flour

2 tsp baking powder 

Heat the oven to 180°C.  Butter a 20cm round cake tin. 

In an electric mixer, combine the sugar, eggs, melted butter, yogurt, and lemon zest.  Mix thoroughly until you have a smooth batter.  Fold in the flour and baking powder.

Spoon the batter into your buttered tin, and bake for 30-35 minutes until golden brown.  Cool in the tin for 15 minutes, before turning out onto a rack. 

Note: this cake keeps (wrapped in clingfilm), but I find that it loses some of its lovely moist texture the longer you leave it.  If you find yourself with leftovers (how? tell me how), might I suggest a slice or two topped with yogurt and fresh berries?  

Rosie's Verdict:  "What kind of cake is it?  Does it have chocolate in it?"