But on Friday, we will be host to six girls as we celebrate darling daughter’s 13th birthday, so back to the kitchen I must go.

Since her first birthday when, as a highly inept cook, I made a dismal failure of her cake, I have made an extraordinary array of novelty cakes. Every year I hope to surprise and delight her with my latest creation, and every year she has challenged me further.

This year though, she is wanting something a little more sophisticated – and that means cupcakes.

Those who are familiar with my cupcakes will know that these are my most favourite thing to make, and I have made them for family and friend’s birthdays, weddings, work colleagues, and even for my favourite shop. And I’ve made them in huge quantities - 250 in one go is my record. Because, let’s face it, who doesn’t like a pretty cupcake?

I’ve played around with various recipes including ones in the popular Hummingbird Cafe cookbook. Gorgeous though they are, I have concluded that they are a bit of a faff and that many people find them simply too rich to enjoy.

But, it’s the sumptuous look that darling daughter is after this year and I have been instructed to cover them with a swirl of buttercream and sprinkles of glitter, so how can I let her down?

I am normally pretty swift and efficient in the kitchen when it comes to cupcakes, but today hasn’t really been my day. A manic day in the office and an infected insect bit on my leg left me feeling knackered and clumsy in the kitchen. I curdled the batter, almost burnt the cakes, my piping bag split and Al had to be despatched on a late night emergency mission to get more icing sugar as I had totally underestimated just how much butter icing the cakes would take.

Here’s hoping when she gets up tomorrow and sees these, they’ll bring a big smile to her face. And that’s all a mum can ask for.

The finished cupcakes

As we have been staycationing this year, we’ve had no such opportunity but my eyes lit up when I found a leaflet for the Wobage Farm Craft Workshops, just 4 miles from Ross on Wye where we had stopped off on our way home from a family visit in Herefordshire. Wobage was set up in the 1970s by potters Mick and Sheila Casson and is workplace for at least seven craftspeople. As well as running regular courses, it has a gallery that is open to passing visitors. 

The gallery has an incredibly eclectic mix of ceramics, not all of which was to my taste, but it was the work of Josh Redman that really caught my eye. Josh is a recent graduate of UWIC in Wales and his work is pretty unconventional – his mugs are probably not something you’d be drinking your morning cuppa in. His experimentation with textures and glazes is fascinating and he talked passionately about his work – answering even my dumbest questions. Infected by his obvious enthusiasm for his craft, we treated ourselves to this vase which now has pride of place on a shelf in my lounge. 

Josh Redman vase

A minor detour on the journey home led us to Ross-on-Wye, a place which has a very special place in my heart. In another life I was a member of Tring’s rafting club, Wonder Y, taking part in the races along the River Wye organised by the Committee of Hereford Amateur Rafters (CHAR). The stretch of river that runs through Ross is stunning, but I’ve actually spent very little time in the town itself, so it was interesting for me to come back in “tourist” mode.

We found a deli called Truffles, run by  Richard and Hayley Mayo. The deli had plenty of delicious-looking local Herefordshire produce, including a British potato vodka from Chase Distillery. The distillery was set up by Will Chase (the founder of Tyrrell’s crisps) and produced its first batch of vodka in 2008. This year it was voted the best in the world at the San Francisco World Spirits Competition - I confess to having no idea how good an accolade this is but, hey, I’m easily impressed.

I’m a bit partial to a dash of vodka with freshly squeezed orange juice (and it has to be freshly squeezed!) so couldn’t resist coming away with some, even with its hefty price tag of £19.99 for a half litre bottle. I’m no expert when it comes to spirits, but I can say that having tried it last night, it delivered a lovely drink that was just the tonic after the long drive home.

Not to be left out, husband Al chose some Kingstone Brewery Ales (from Tintern in Wales), and darling daughter spotted some not terribly local but very delicious Hadji Bey turkish delight which I was intrigued to find was founded by an Armenian refugee in Cork, Ireland in the early 1900s.

And of course, there was the obligatory chocolate purchase – this time some Raisin Rabble, from Monmouth chocolatiers Mon Cacao. All gone already!

After such an expensive day, I shall be mostly living like a hermit for the next month and I suspect it is just as well I am back at work on Tuesday and out of temptation’s way.

Birthday baskets

One of the promises I have made to myself is to try to make gifts for friends for birthdays rather than buying more “things”. I figure that not only is it more sustainable, it’s a very personal way to show someone you care.

Thus far I’ve been a bit crap at it – full of good intentions, but usually failing to deliver. My attempts to make good friend Pete something “different” (he bakes better bread and cupcakes than me, so I needed to pull the stops out) ended in unmitigated disaster. The cake collapsed and the pumpkin and vanilla jam was more like toffee. Lesson one learned – stick to what you know. Sorry Pete – I promise you’ll get your birthday goodies, but in the meantime, I have some other birthdays to attend to.

With three girlies to come up with birthday presents for, I hatched the ingenious, or bonkers – you decide – idea to make each of them a mini picnic basket filled with a jar of homemade pickle, a loaf of my bread, a hunk of cheese from the marvellous Cullenders Delicatessen & Food Store and a couple of cupcakes.

I made up a batch of sweet onion compote using a recipe based on the one in Sarah Raven’s Garden Cookbook, three mini loaves of Challah (another Andrew Whitley recipe although I confess to short-cutting on the plaiting!) and some cupcakes topped with some improvised spotty icing. A rummage through the cupboard unearthed some pretty chintzy fabric, and I got some lovely baskets from Nina at the Vintage Tea House.

I am, though I say it myself, very pleased with the results. Two have already been delivered, with one friend tucking into the bread and cheese almost immediately – I’ll take that as good sign!

The finished picnic basket - very pretty

And the rest ….

This weekend, we’re off to Herefordshire for a Smith family gathering. It’s been a very long time since my husband’s family were all together and these days there’s quite a lot of us! My mother-in-law has instructed us to come with contributions to the meal and my job is two salads and a dessert, so in between the frenzied picnic basket preparation, I’ve whipped up another of those delicious chocolate beetroot cakes, a roasted vegetable and cous cous salad and a failsafe favourite carrot and sultana salad that is loved by kids and adults alike.

Final bake of the day was the family dinner of a roasted tomato and goat’s cheese flan from my current favourite Canteen cookbook (of the chocolate and beetroot cake fame). It is so pretty, I just had to share ….

Roasted tomato and goat's cheese flan

In my first post I mentioned that aging sourdough starter that had lain untouched in my fridge for the past two months. Not sure these are exactly something to be proud of, but thought I would share the results, if only as a learning experience! 

Taking guidance from Andrew Whitley’s Bread Matters, I refreshed the starter, stuck it in the airing cupboard and crossed my fingers and toes. Amazingly, after just a couple of hours it was showing some tentative signs of life! 

Most definitely alive

My hopes seemed dashed the following day when I found it looking lifeless and dull. I Tweeted my despair and got a quick reply from @doughblogs with a handy tip involving beer and yoghurt. My long-suffering husband was despatched to the shops for real ale but before I was able to test this advice (which is noted for future reference!) I was pathetically pleased discover that  underneath the lacklustre surface, the sourdough was very much alive. Yay!

Inside the Lurgashall Watermill

Spurred on, I put it into action in two loaves – a 100% rye and a wholemeal loaf using flour milled at the Lurgashall Watermill at the Weald & Downland Open Air Museum.

I am particularly interested in the results from the latter as it is made from wheat grown just 10 miles from museum, and the mill itself originally dates back to the 17th Century. 

The Rye

Rye dough: Into the tin and ready to prove

Getting the rye dough into the loaf tin was a feat in itself – how do they make it look so easy and clean?

After leaving it to prove for more hours than I could bear, I went for it and this is the result! The texture was very moist and it’s a bit brick-like, but is delicious – especially toasted with some XO Marmite. Mmmm.

The finished loaf: not pretty but very tasty

The Wholemeal

A very sticky dough!

This took an astoundingly long time to prove  – somewhere around 24 hours before I thought it looked anywhere near risen enough to bake!

That's as far as it's going

The resulting loaf is another brick-like offering, but damn it tastes good! Thumbs up from my daughter, who’s exact words were “nom nom”.

Hurrah!

The finished loaf

I am making a new starter – it will be good to see how much difference a brand new and more vigorous starter will make.

I have made it my mission in recent years to avoid the local supermarkets as much as humanly possible, but others will be familiar with daily dilemmas such a commitment creates.

We are relatively lucky when it comes to meat and fish – there is a great butchers in a neighbouring town, and Bob the fishmonger who visits the local market twice a week is happy to talk about the origin of any of his stock. We are also blessed with a very nice deli with a lovely array of cheeses, and if I don’t think too hard about where his produce comes from, I can at least satisfy myself that I am supporting a local independent retailer. Bread, vegetables and other staples on the other hand, are an entirely different matter.

In the absence of an artisan baker within a 20 mile radius, I resolved the bread conundrum by vowing to only eat bread that I have made myself, and I am proud to say that I can probably count on one hand the number of loaves of mass-produced bread I have bought in the past 18 months.

The rest of my weekly shop, however, is fraught with ethical and environmental bear traps; here is the typical, but not exhaustive list of questions that runs through my head with every item placed in my basket:

• Is it organic?
• Is it local? If not, is it British?
• If it’s not British, how far has it travelled and what’s the local environmental  and economic impact in its country of origin?
• Is it seasonal and, if not, how has it been grown out of season?
• Wherever it comes from, was the producer/grower paid a fair price?
• Is processed and does it have any unnecessary ingredients?
• Is it good for me?

The more I read, the more confused I get. Buying fresh, British and organic seemed like a straightforward choice, but lately I have come to understand that tomatoes grown out of season in the UK have a bigger carbon footprint than tomatoes grown in Spain, and that imported apples may be more environmentally friendly than English ones that have been kept in cold storage over the winter.

The scary thing for me is how out of touch with the seasonality of food I am. Beyond the scant knowledge that asparagus has a very short season, strawberries appear in June, tomatoes continue over the summer and apples start to appear about now, I really have no idea what I’m doing when I select my produce.

And this brings me to the critical issue that has been troubling me over the recent months – the realisation that I am incapable at this moment in time of being anything close to self-sufficient. I could no more feed or clothe myself than build a rocket and fly to the moon.

Modern industrialised life, in spite of all its choice and luxury, has stripped of us of the fundamental skills to look after ourselves.  And in doing so, not only is it damaging our health and social well-being, it is (probably irreparably) damaging our environment.

I’m not advocating a return to the stone-age, but I can no longer ignore the link between self-sufficiency and a more sustainable lifestyle. I am truly bought into the argument that we have become so removed from the production of our food, that our motivation to make better choices and reduce consumption is severely compromised. I can buy fruit out of season at any time of year and there’s no effort involved, so it is easy for me to distance myself from the realities of its passage to the shop floor.

And what I have found, for me at least, is that when there is effort involved in the production, the temptation to waste is greatly reduced. And the greater the perceived effort, the stronger my commitment is.

Take my bread making for example. Every week, I devote several hours to the task of making our weekly supply. Not one scrap of that bread ever goes to waste – how could I possibly chuck out something I have put so much time into? I have learned that bread lasts a lot longer than I thought, that if you toast it, it stills tastes great even when well past it’s best, and that there are many things you can do with a rock-solid lump of bread. Bread pudding anyone?

And as for the meagre crop of fruit and vegetables we have grown for the first time in our garden, every miniscule and misshapen tomato and onion is lovingly incorporated into our meal and savoured.

And so, there I have it. My own solution to living ethically and sustainably. By empowering myself with the knowledge to grow it and/or make it myself, I am equipping myself to reduce my dependency on the industrial food chain, consuming less, wasting less and living healthier. And when I need to resort to the supermarkets, I will do so armed with a better knowledge of what is achievable by natural means.

None of this of course is new. There has been plenty written on food, the environment, sustainability and permaculture but I’m not much of an intellect or an academic and I was never much good at learning from books. So my education starts in my home. It will be a fumbling, bumbling  evolution as I learn by trial and error and for every disappointment, there will be the small successes that will bring me satisfaction and pleasure.

What more could a girl ask for?

The Coco Cafe, Petworth

Husband Al managed to keep me out of the gorgeous looking antique shops and boutiques, but nothing was going to keep me out of this place – the Coco Cafe and Sugar Lounge – which offers a wonderful selection of quality chocolate and good old-fashioned sweets in a very pleasant cafe setting.

The prospect of getting my hands on an untried variety of quality chocolate was too much to resist, and I dragged my family in on the pretext of a nice cup of tea to break up our drive.

Francois Pralus chocolate

I wasn’t disappointed. I came away with these three bars of Francois Pralus chocolate. I hadn’t tried them before, but I can already vouch for their deliciousness. I am usually on my own when it comes to the 100% cacao bars, but that’s just fine by me!

As for that visit to the Weald & Downland Museum – more on that later ….

Celebrating Sam's birthday with beetroot and chocolate cake

Sam and I only met for the first time last year (a long story for another day), and yet within hours of meeting we discovered we shared an unfortunate genetic legacy – Crohn’s disease. Whilst I have been relatively fortunate (my Crohn’s has been in remission for many years), the illness has blighted much of Sam’s twenties, costing him jobs as well as his health.

Sam find dairy products particularly indigestible, so a dairy-free cake was essential. Luckily, the Canteen cookbook has a brilliant Beetroot and Chocolate cake which never fails to impress, and I never tire of keeping my guests guessing what the “secret” ingredient is. To date, no-one has correctly identified the beetroot!

When I make this recipe, I leave out the white chocolate chunks – I think they are superfluous and make the cake a bit oily, and I like to finish the top off with a light dusting of edible gold sparkle dust.

Sourdough starter created in February 2010

It smells amazing, if rather like a brewery! I will follow it’s progress in future posts.

Back to Tom Herbert, I cannot help but be inspired by his passion and commitment to real bread. I have been following him on Twitter @Tom_Herbert_, along with Birmingham baker Tom Baker @LoafOnline for some time now – their enthusiasm is infectious and, damn, they make breadmaking sexy!