about writing and life and God

Black cats and treacle scones

on October 31, 2012

At ten o’clock this morning, my hands smelled strongly of garlic and when I looked at my fingers, they were sticky with red stuff.


Nope. I don’t do Hallowe’en. (Though I do like black cats, with or without broomsticks!)

So what gives?

Autumn comfort cooking.

I found a recipe for a proper burger-tasting but veggie burger and thought I’d have a go. It required 3 cloves of garlic… and one tablespoon of tomato paste. As a canny Scot, “waste not want not” is as much engraved on my heart as Calais was on Mary Queen of Scots’ so the red nails came from digging out the last of the tomato paste from the tiny tin to freeze in dollops on a sheet of clingfilm.

At this moment, however, the garlic smell has gone. (Funny how much washing up is entailed in a cooking spasm!) While the very burgery-looking burger mix rests, I got down to the first baking I’ve done in … possibly years. (My excuse is that baking is creative!)

A friend is coming round this afternoon and I wanted to have something nice to offer with tea. Hallowe’en reminded me of foodie games we used to play on this night. Anyone remember such innocent fun as bobbing for apples? We all got wet and laughed a lot.

But on one occasion, one of my sister’s friends (previously mentioned in this blog as the Big Girls) kindly included me in an invitation to a Hallowe’en party. Her wise parents had set up the messy games in their garage. And after the apple-bobbing came a very messy game indeed.

A long rope like a washing line was hung up along the length of the garage. Suspended on string from the rope at intervals were sweet treacle scones, dripping with more treacle. The game was to try to eat a scone with both hands behind your back. Of course our faces got smeared with sticky black treacle!

But I loved treacle scones, so I decided to make some for my friend. I have just taken them out of the oven and had one with my coffee.
Are they as good as I remember? Oh yes!


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