Lemon Drizzle

A great recipe that costs pennies to make.

I made a bit of a booboo with the recipe, but overall, it turned out great.  Afterall, making mistakes when baking makes some of the best recipes known to man.  I also burned my finger rather badly when taking the tin out of the oven, so please, please, please, be careful!

Ingredients

2 eggs

3oz self-raising flour

3oz caster sugar

3oz butter

1/2 tsp baking powder

Lemon zest from 1/2 lemon

For the drizzle

2oz caster sugar

Juice from 1/2 lemon

Method

  1. Preheat your oven to 180C / 160C for fan assisted ovens.
  2. Line your loaf tin with greaseproof paper.
  3. Combine the eggs, flour, sugar, butter, baking powder and lemon zest in a large bowl, until creamy.
  4. Pour in to your lined tin.
  5. Bake in the preheated oven for 35 minutes, or until golden brown and springy to the touch.
  6. Remove from the oven, and whilst it’s cooling, measure out your sugar for the drizzle, and stir thoroughly with the juice from 1/2 a lemon, until the sugar is fully dissolved.
  7. As soon as the sugar is dissolved, pour the mixture over the top of the still warm cake, and spread all over with the back of a metal spoon.
  8. Allow to cool completely before removing from the tin.
  9. Slice up and enjoy!

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Ode to a bird

Nearly 7 and a half years ago, I was sent a photo in work. My hubby had bought two zebra finches, and named them Mocha (fawn coloured female) and Latte (white male). Mocha was his, and Latte was mine…

Latte was bought as a girl. He had no colouration, and could only “eep” – he didn’t have a song. As soon as I got home from work, I immediately said to Michael, “Latte’s a boy”. He had exceedingly faint coloured cheeks, and I could see that his beak was slightly brighter coloured than Mochas.

I gave him months and months of attention, singing my best male zebra finch song to him, and eventually he learned it.

Now Latte was a stupid bird. He truly was. He couldn’t sing (no male influences), he could barely fly, and he was so skittish. Whenever we let him out for a “wing stretch” (yes, we let him fly around the house), he would start ‘clicking’ and ‘eeping’, as if he was asthmatic. He would panic over nothing.

We lost him down the back of the Welsh dresser once… Pulling that heavy thing out was a nightmare, and I was terrified that Michael was going to accidently hurt – or even kill him.

About 3 years ago, we had to separate the birds. Latte had attacked poor Mocha, and almost killed her. The blood, cuts and feathers were unbelievable, and I honestly thought she would die… Thankfully, she recovered perfectly.

I bet you’ve got to the point where you’re wondering why I’m writing such a long post, over a bird? Well, Latte was the first ‘big’ thing that my hubby had ever bought for me. Latte died tonight. Rest in peace, my little man. You can now fly free ❤

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