I'd made a delicious carbonara for tea and was sat eating it: about halfway through the meal I began mentally complaining about the selfish neighbours with a bonfire. I then complained out loud.
"Can you smell smoke?" I enquired of the usually nasally rubbish HG.
"Yes." Was his shocking reply. Shocking because he normally cannot smell anything.
As I neared the kitchen door I could hear what could only be described as 'sissing'.
Hesitantly I opened the door into the kitchen. Thick. Black. Smoke!
Cheeky neighbours lighting their bonfire in my kitchen..
Ok ok I confess, I'd left the pan I'd made the carbonara in, on the hob. The sissing sound was the sound of the induction hob casually melding the innards of the pan. The delightfully eye stinging black smoke was coming from the well n truly almost alight wooden spoon!!
Yikes! Close call there.
Pan is saved. But rather like Shireen Baratheon, the spoon is well and truly burned to ashes! Game of Thrones reference there. I'm still distraught over the end of the series. ( Heck, I'm still distraught about what they did to Ned Stark. )
So my Firstborn turned 21 and was thoroughly spoilt! The cake turned out better than I thought considering I just basically whacked various grades of ganache at it. Due to extreme tiredness,plus working full time, piping really wasn't an option.
There is a full 600ml of double cream on and in this cake!
Mrs Tiggywinkle is my favourite.
Ma in law is home and safely ensconced at the HG's Sister's house and is recovering nicely. Thank you all for your well wishes.
Right am off to bed now as its gone Midnight!
Lots of love from
Rachel *overtired* Radiostar xxx