The ratio for making Mum´s Yorkshire puddings was 2 rounded tablespoons of plain white flour to each fresh egg, the ingredients were never weighed. Mum taught me that the secret of well risen Yorkshire puddings was the beating using a metal spoon, definitely not a whisk. Mum often used white bread flour. I wonder if Mum made me mix the puddings using a spoon to keep me occupied just a little longer.

This recipe was traditional in the area of the West Riding of Yorkshire in which I was “born and raised”; despite modern kitchen appliances, my friends (and their children) still use the traditional methods passed down from mother to daughter.

Plain white flour
Very fresh eggs
Milk or Milk/Water
Optional
Fine salt and white pepper
Light Yorkshire ale

1. So … measure the flour plus a little salt and pepper into a large strong baking bowl, make a well in the centre and add the whole eggs, stir with a metal spoon bringing the dry ingredients together, adding a little milk if necessary then beating (not whisking) until smooth, i.e. lump free.
2. Mum made me beat the pudding batter for about 15 minutes – or until my wrists hurt and I could not beat any more – when the batter was smooth, we slowly added the remaining liquid, while stirring until smooth.
3. The batter is better just a little thicker than single cream – Mum´s was between single and double cream.
4. The batter was rested (covered with a clean tea towel), at room temperature, for about an hour, sometimes longer.
5. The fats were heated until very hot, then the shelf was pulled out a little, the batter poured in and the door closed (the batter sizzled when poured into the tin).
6. The door was not opened until the pudding was ready – Mum said this was so heat was not lost, nothing to do with the pudding not rising – Mum´s Yorkshire Puddings never failed to rise.
7. Serve immediately with onion gravy.
8. Left overs – serve with fresh lemon juice with icing sugar sifted over the top, or jam/golden syrup.

This a quick fix to right the wrongs of a very very bad day.

Quick Chocolate Custard

300 grams ready made custard
30 grams dark or milk chocolate – grated

Warm the custard, according to instructions on the tub
When the custard is hot stir in the chocolate
Serve immediately

This is lovely with a plain sponge or chocolate pudding; poured over bananas, cover with clingfilm so it touches the custard, chill in the fridge (classic old fashioned banana and custard with a twist); or just with the addition of cake, rather than pudding – its a “Mum” thing from when I was very very young!

Cake
225 grams unsalted butter
175 grams unrefined caster sugar
50 grams soft light brown sugar
4 large fresh eggs, lightly beaten
225 grams self raising flour, sifted
2 tsp baking powder
2 rounded tbsp organic cocoa
4 tbsp boiling water

Cream the butter and sugars together until smooth
Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well between each addition
Mix the cocoa with the boiling water, fold into the batter with the sifted flour and baking powder
Bake for 30 minutes or until springy to the touch

I went online today and searched for my ex husband (I often search for old friends to see how they are getting on and whether they are still among us), his full name is unusual having his mother´s Scottish maiden name as his second Christian name. The first on the list was his obituary, I discovered he died in December 2010.

After all these years, a lifetime it seems, there must still be some feeling left. I was upset and cried.

I cannot believe that he died so young, well 67 is young these days, isn´t it. Somehow, while he was in the world, everything seemed to go along just fine. Now I know he isn´t there any longer, it is like … final closure, like I didn´t really want to let go. My feelings confuse me.

I was the one who walked out on the relationship. The one who divorced my partner. The one who said I didn´t love, or like, him any more.

Memories of happier times are flowing through my mind, a time when I loved being with him – before marriage. I did not expect this reaction and I admit to not understanding it. Confused? Absolutely. Why do I feel like this now, why now?

I love cream puffs – when I was a child Mum bought me one from the local store each weekend; we called them “Elephant´s Feet”, as you can guess these were quite large – usually they had a lovely chocolate icing, but sometimes it was flavoured with coffee, which I loved.

Pastry
¼ pint water
2 oz unsalted butter
8 level tbsp plain flour, sifted
2 large fresh eggs, lightly beaten
Filling
Double cream
Few drops of pure vanilla extract
Chocolate sauce
125 ml double cream
85 grams Lindt Excellence Dark Chocolate, 70%
½ tsp pure vanilla extract

Pastry
Place the water and butter into a saucepan, bring to the boil.
Take off the heat, put in all the flour and beat with a wooden spoon until the dough beings to leave the sides of the pan. Continue beating until it just begins to form into a ball, allow to cool for a few minutes.
Using a hand held mixer, add a little egg at a time beating vigorously between each addition. The dough should have a “sheen” when ready. Wrap in clingfilm and chill for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 200ºC
Spray a baking sheet with cold water

Form pieces of the dough into balls around the size of a golf ball.

When completed, cover with a baking tin, sealing with a flour and water paste. Bake in the preheated oven for 45 minutes. Test to ensure they are cooked by gently shaking the tin – if they move around, take out of the oven. Cut off the top, leave to cool on a wire rack.

When cool fill with flavoured whipped cream, replace the top and serve with a chocolate sauce.

Rich dark chocolate sauce

Put the chopped chocolate into a heatproof bowl.
Pour the cream into a small heavy-based saucepan, heat gently while stirring frequently.
Warm until the bubbles appear around the edge of the saucepan.
Pour over the chopped chocolate, leave a few minutes then until smooth, add the vanilla extract, and whisk until the sauce thickens then serve immediately.

Flavourings – cognac, rum, brandy, coffee liqueur, Grand Marnier, chocolate liqueur.

Alternative – fill the puffs with chocolate ganache, drizzle melted chocolate over the top and serve.

An hour ago I had a close call when I went into the bathroom and turned on the basin tap – a flash of electricity about 8 inches in length shot out with a … loud bang. My daughter yelled “what the hell was that”, she was just outside the door with Joe our JRT. When I emerged – pale, shaking and speechless from the bathroom she asked “that noise, it came from the bathroom, right? My daughter turned the electricity back on – I stood outside the bathroom door. A flash shot out of the light fitting on the ceiling accompanied by a loud bag, the electricity went off again. The only things working in the house now are the hob and two sockets in the kitchen, everything else is off.

I thought, as there was an electrical storm with heavy (torrential) rain, that perhaps we had been struck by lightning. Lightning just loves me, this is not the first close encounter I have experienced in my life.

The first encounter – riding a horse, storm began and struck a tree just about 25 yards away, wood flew in all directions. My horse … he just stood and looked, then moved off again without a care in the world.

The second encounter – lightning travelling along the road around me (very pretty blue) as I bolted (no pun intended) for home, my hair was “electrified, stood up on end”. That only happens in movies, right?

The third encounter – outside a house when a lightning bolt came towards my boyfriend and myself, changed course at the last minute and hit the house next door blowing a hole in the front and back of the house.

Fourth encounter – I had a television in my bedroom, the aerial connection (aerial in loft), outside my bedroom window, lightning struck aerial connection, loud bang from my television which never came on again.

Lightning is attracted to me. So many times my hair has been stood on end due to numerous other encounters, too numerous to mention. My father was certain I would end up “fried” or “toasted” or whatever it is that lightning does to you. But at least I lived to tell the tale, so far!

It started off yesterday morning with a thunder storm and very heavy rain, turned to sleet and finally to heavy snowfall which eventually started to settle. The mountains looked really beautiful, capped in white. I realised when looking up just how high the peaks are above the village.

When I awoke this morning the view out of my bedroom window was breath taking.

I love snow, being trapped in the house for days on end, brings back memories of being unable to go to junior school because the snow was too deep and the school closed because the old fashioned boiler could not cope. I loved playing out in the snow, rain, hail and sleet – thunder storms were a delight, until one day I was coming home from youth club – running as fast as I could through what can only be described as blue lightning running along the ground. Mum and Dad watched in horror from their bedroom window, not a thing they could do to help. When I arrived home my hair was full of electricity, just stood up on end – and as it was nearly waist length, that was quite a sight.

I often wonder what effects lightning has on the human body and whether the headaches that I started to experience after that day were directly attributable to the storm, which continued all night and into the next day.

Restaurante La Herradura, Prol. Avenida del Mar, s/n 03187 Los Montesinos, Alicante, Tel. 96 672 10 78

We visited this lovely old restaurant on UK Mother´s Day for lunch. The meal was wonderful, the service excellent, the staff friendly and welcoming, plus English was spoken for those of us whose Spanish language skills leave a lot to be desired.

We started with Special bread la Herradura with tomato and garlic. Alsolutely gorgeous and for those of us who love Spanish bread, this tops any I have ever eaten. With the Alioli and tomato, it was fabulous.

We decided to be a little adverturous with the starter – and chose a Canneloni stuffed with spanish black sausage (Morcilla). It was absolutely sublime, I mean seriously – the combination of morcilla sausage, crispy canneloni and cream of mushroom sauce was just, well, it was out of this world.

For our main course we both chose Chopped Sirloin with Spring Garlic, vegetables. The spring garlic and chopped sirloin combination was excellent and whilst I have never been a fan of caramalised garlic or onion, this was beautiful.

To finish we had a homemade cheesecake with a berry coulis. It was a rare treat for me as I haven´t enjoyed the cheesecakes served in restaurants whilst in Spain until Sunday. They are usually watery and tasteless, not this one.

We had house red wine, water and finally Cafe Solo followed by a complimentary glass of Cava.

We were met at the door by the lovely head chef who chatted to us for some time and after each course asked if the meal was up to standard. During my time in Spain, I can honestly say this was the best restaurant I have ever visited. The meal was excellent and I will be returning in the not too distant future.

On Friday evening, La Herradura has a Flamenco night, which I am told is very good. I look forward to seeing it.

They also have a website and it is well worth a visit restaurantelaherradura.com

Autumn has arrived and with it rain, electrical storms, fog and snow … though not all at once. The news reported the first snow of Autumn, the cameras were in a Spanish home to show its occupants with the heaters turned on full and the lady of house sitting on the sofa wrapped in blankets sipping hot chocolate, hands wrapped around the mug, shivering!

Dare I say it without being sent back to UK in shame … the Spanish are just a wee bit soft. In this area the temperature in the daytime is around 22 to 23 degrees Celsius. This morning I was looking out over the car park to see a Spanish couple with their kids walking to their car with the shopping, all wrapped up in warm clothing wearing boots. Soft! I think so, at least just a little, on the other hand I was really cold last night, shivering with blue toes and hands, the temperature … 14 degrees Celsius. Nuff said! Goodness knows what will happen when, or if, I ever return to Scotland.

This morning Eliza awoke, made a “girlie” little squeak and flicked the cockroach that was on her bed onto the floor. It was huge, in the way that only cockroaches can be huge, and yet so small! My turn came when the cockroach approached my feet, “I can’t get up” I screached, before finally managing to raise my bum off the chair, then running … well hobbling really … for the safety of the kitchen. Eliza placed a plastic container over the cockroach, I managed to get something underneath the container before opening window and evicting said bug. Yuk, I hate Spanish bugs, they seem so much bigger than any I have ever seen before. Again, yuk!

I am quite brave really. When I was 8 years old my friend and I were walking up the main road in our village, two bullocks escaped from the field opposite and chased us down the road, we both ended up sitting on top of vicarage wall, the bullocks rammed the wall over and over again, they became bored, moved on, and we escaped to our homes and told our parents of our encounter. Mine didn’t take much notice, but later told me the farmer had to shoot both bullocks as apparently they had “gone mad”. Brave, I think so.

Two years later I was again climbing walls, escaping from school through the “back door”! I fell, landed on my bum, my teeth went right through my bottom lip. My mother was horrified but as usual calm, when she finally got around taking me to the doctors that evening, it was too late to stitch. Did I learn my lesson and not climb walls that were well over 6 feet high, did I heck, I remain a “tom boy”. Even though I cannot get up to my old tricks, it is still there deep in my heart, a tom boy till the day I die. I never had any sense of danger either, always take risks in the sea and rivers. There was a wooden half moon bridge over the river near my home, my friend and I went onto it to play, despite the fact that there were many large gaps. If Mum had known about my antics, she wouldn’t have let me out of the house. In the holidays after swimming was over, I left the house and did not return until dusk. We had so much more freedom that today’s children. In a way I pity them, must be like prison, or so it seems to me. It had its down side though, this freedom, my best friend drowned in the river where I played. I loved him then, and I love him now. Still think of him 51 years later. His Mum lost two children in 11 months, her eldest daughter and youngest son.

I had a dream last night about my late father and it reminded me of the stories he told me as a child. My favourite was about Tom Thumb, he said that Tom lived in the Bluebell woods on Birkwood Road, just over the river. For years I believed the story and often went into the woods to see if I could find him, never did of course.

In my dream Dad had come to collect me, he said it was my time and he was taking me on to my new home. That I would love the home and be happy throughout eternity. I have not been too happy since Dad died, and have been unable to mourn him, not saying there havent been happy times, have occasionally.

Just after Dad died I had a dream that I died, Dad was sitting by my bed and told me to be strong, that it was not my time and I had to go back. My job wasnt finished and there was important things I had to do. Goodness knows what. While I was having this dream my daughter came into the bedroom and tried to wake me, she said I wasnt breathing, think I was, just quietly. At times when I was first diagnosed with asthma, I did wake up in the night after gasping quite loudly, my doctor explained why, but for the life of me I cannot remember the medical term.

I have been thinking about my cat today, mainly as she died yesterday after 18 years of happy life. She was evil, bad tempered and at times quite nasty. Why did I love her? She had “guts” and I admire that in anything, particularly the female of the species.

The funniest memory was when Geraldine (our hampster and very much like Kypa in temperament) was exercising in her roller ball, Kypa approached the ball with a view to disposing of said smelly rodent. The hampster looked at Kypa and rolled the ball aggressively towards her, the cat backed off and ended up jumping onto the sofa after being chased around the room for several minutes, with me laughing. Kypa did not like being laughed at.

Kypa loved to kill anything smaller than herself, particularly spiders. In our last house in the UK, we had a “colony” of very large hairy spiders that were very aggressive. Kypa chased one, it ended with myself, daughter and Kipper all stood on the sofa seeking refuge after being chased around the living room by the spider. Kypa never bothered a spider again.

We found Kypa on 23 August 1990 after our first visit to Cala D´or, with her sister Pepe. They both had cat flu, had been abandoned. Kypa approached and though I loved her from the first, my favourite was Pepe, she was so pretty and feminine. She fitted onto my hand, but I backed off when she arched her back and hissed, allowing my daughter to pick her up. This attitude to me continued throughout her life. She loved my father and daughter much more than me. Pepe wasn´t as strong as Kypa and died of the cat flu, the vet managed to save Kypa but said she would not live long and would always be thin. He was right on the latter.

My doctors were horrified when I arrived at the Oncology Department for my final treatment to see a couple of long scratches on my arm, red and sore. When I explained that my cat had scratched me they insisted on treating said wound. It healed, no ill effects, but I understand it could have been nasty. Better to be born lucky than rich!

She gave me many years of happy memories, too numerous to mention and for that I will always be grateful to her.