It turns out that hopelessly pining away for an operation that may or may not come or work is less fun than it sounds, which is an interesting development because a few weeks ago it sounded totally rad. But hey ho, on we go in the shadow of the Transplant That Never Was, and I have decided it is time to get myself a Thing. Henceforth, my Thing is going to be what I Do, because what with the pining and the self-pity shelved I’m going to have some free time on my hands. To Do my Thing. Which, after a careful elimination process, I have decided is going to be Baking.
Baking is the lonely girl’s fetish. It is an activity that requires no additional human support thus making it ideal for me because all the additional humans in my life actually have social lives that involve leaving the house. Baking has the extra benefit of producing (theoretically) edible treats which you can trade with aforementioned others in return for their friendship. Everyone gets a brownie, everybody wins.
My Baking was kick-started by a book called Edible Gifts that I almost bought for Hannah, my brother’s insanely wonderful girlfriend, but then bought as a ludicrously extravagant birthday gift for myself (a book! That isn’t on my Masters reading list! And that cost £12.99!). My intention was to start giving friends and family parcels of perishables in lieu of stuff they actually wanted because I thought it would be a bit twee and a bit sweet and marginally less stressful than trying to guess taste or dress size or cultural preferences. My first foray into gifting food was a batch of shortbread that came out astonishingly well - “Better than shop bought,” was Maisy’s pronouncement. Unfortunately the wheels came off when it came to giving the shortbread away: it had been destined for my friend Clare, but we had to re-schedule dinner at the last minute, so most of it was surreptitiously eaten by Maisy and myself over the course of a week. I am now of course too scared to make it again for fear it was beginners’ luck.
Edible Gifts provides a range of ideas, not all of them baked (look forward to your mulled wine muslin pouches this Yuletide suckers) but Baking is where it’s at for the LG. It was a gateway book: I have succumbed to the BBC Good Food website and when I need a fix I turn to an excellent blog I “found” (I Googled cake blogs) called Let Her Bake Cake and now I spend an alarming portion of my day dreaming up my next crumbly endeavour. Oh yes, I am that pathetic.
Cakes, bakes and muffins also happen to be relatively potassium/phosphate friendly as long as they’re not plied with nuts or chocolate or spinach. This is particularly welcome news after last week’s phone call from the Hospital dietician telling me that my potassium was 6.5 and I had to STOP EATING BRAN FLAKES RIGHT NOW if I didn’t want to have a heart attack, which I don’t really, and has put me back in mind of the strict renal diet I should be following – and not a moment too soon, if Clare gets her way. When I finally made it round for a joyous dinner on Wednesday with Mark (she got flapjack mix because I was short of time and a working oven) Clare suggested I write a recipe book for dialysis patients. In the course of her research for the evening’s menu - delicious paella, no prawns, no tomatoes - she had been dismayed by the dearth of meal plans for the renally challenged. Cue half an hour of title suggestions (Rosy’s Renal Recipes; Cooking without Kidneys; Kid-Ney Nuts!) and a discussion about how to circumnavigate my inability to cook… but baking, you see – that’s going to be my Thing. As long as fellow patients don’t object to claffoutis for breakfast and brioche for dinner I feel sure it will be a hit. Give a Lonely Girl a palette knife and she can rule the
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