And So It Begins...

We have a little joke in my family that when my parents pop their clogs my inheritance will consist of cook books, some farm animal ornaments and kitchen utensils.

the utensils

Y'know what? I'm completely cool with that. I'm ecstatic with that, actually.

The book I'm currently searching through is the most prize out of all my inheritance. It's a year older than I am and the pages are either falling out or stuck together with bits of cake batter and icing. I have, quite literally, grown up with this book. How many people can say that about a recipe book?

But even though I am armed with my favourite of all cook books, I'm still unable to find a recipe that I feel like making within the next few days.

I could make some yummy teacakes, or maybe a treacle tart?

Those fishcakes I've been meaning to cook up for a while now?

How about good ol' jam tarts made with homemade jam?

Oh, I don't know! I want to eat all of those things. Especially the fishcakes. Maybe I should make those and put that Thai Sauce recipe I found the other day to good use too?

Ah! This bloody cook book opened up a whole range of different foods to me, that a year ago I didn't even like, and now I'm stuck having to choose which ones I want to eat the most.

Cook book... you know I love you but sometimes, just sometimes, you really do make life a whole lot more difficult.

the cook book