I looked out my Great Grandma's Be-Ro Recipe Book the other week to make Pancakes. (See my PANCAKE BLOG).
I love cooking. I love spending time in the kitchen creating and making and baking, and then eating. Or at least I did. I find that cooking is one of those activities that I used to derive an immense amount of pleasure from, but that as my MS has progressed, I find that cooking, baking and pottering in the kitchen is one of those activities that I just don't seem to be able to muster either the energy or enthusiasm for. This is indeed a sad confession. And not only the preparation and making; but even the eating, as I really have virtually no appetite for anything much at all. That my MS has robbed me of my appetite, my appetite for food and to a lesser extent my appetite for life, I think is one of the saddest admissions of them all.
Anyway, I sat and nostalgically flicked through the old Be-Ro Recipe Book. Not a Recipe Book of glossy photos of delicious creations, but a reminder of tried and trusted and loved recipe. I used to derive a huge amount of pleasure simply from perusing recipe books and from planning events and occasions when I could try recipes out. Flicking through Be-Ro I was reminded of this simple joy. And in that moment I was reminded of the simple pleasure that I derived from baking and making. My enthusiasm returned. I was reminded of the simple but absolute joy of making something delicious.
Anyway, I sat and nostalgically flicked through the old Be-Ro Recipe Book. Not a Recipe Book of glossy photos of delicious creations, but a reminder of tried and trusted and loved recipe. I used to derive a huge amount of pleasure simply from perusing recipe books and from planning events and occasions when I could try recipes out. Flicking through Be-Ro I was reminded of this simple joy. And in that moment I was reminded of the simple pleasure that I derived from baking and making. My enthusiasm returned. I was reminded of the simple but absolute joy of making something delicious.
For me, this joy is multiplied a thousand times over if I know that I am making something for someone else, and that they will be pleased, thrilled or happy that I have spent my time making something for them, making something they can eat. And that they will know that whatever it is that I have made has been made with love.
I decided to make Lemon Curd. It was a no-brainer. An obvious choice.
Lemon Curd really is for me a hugely evocative treat. A simple pleasure, but steeped in the memory of making it with my Great Granny. And I was reminded of the quotation: "Cooking is like Love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all." I think anything that is cooked with Love always tastes that little bit better; it is like 'Love' is a magic, secret ingredient. And for me, nothing is made with more Love than Lemon Curd, the Lemon Curd I made with my Great Granny, and so nothing is ever quite so delicious.
Lemon Curd really is very simple to make. Only four ingredients are required:
- 4 Lemons
- 4 Eggs
- 4 oz Butter
- 1 lb Sugar
The method is pretty simple too. Wash and dry the lemons, and grate the rind from each. Then half the fruit and squeeze out all of the juice. Add the juice, rind, sugar, butter and eggs into a bowl. Place the bowl over a pan of water (kind of like a double sauce-pan or double-boiler). Then just stir over a gentle heat with a wooden spoon until the sugar and butter are melted and it begins to thicken.
This is then spooned into Jars, or Tupper Ware containers to be posted out (to share the love) but it never usually lasts for long.
So, Lemon Curd on Hot Buttered Toast, with a Mug of Tea - in my 'Keep Calm and Love Benedict CUMBERBATCH' Mug. What could be more glorious?
