November 3, 2009
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Yes, I know I keep banging on about parkin. That's because it's important – ask Chris Addison, who resorted to asking the hive mind where he could get some (and who, for the duration of The Thick of It, or until 15 November, will be my TV boyfriend). But, in the week where I saw the date of my 40th birthday written out (it'll be a Wednesday, apparently), I also found myself turning into the kind of person who sits down and seriously ponders recipes.
It's the Guardian's fault. Most things are. They printed another parkin recipe (it's the cusp of October / November, they do it every year. Must be the remnants of being from Manchester) which I might have a stab at – it's closer to the hardcore parkin recipe that I find ridiculously tasty but also ridiculously easy to overbake, but with the liquid easymethod of Delia – but then I got to the bit about the flaked almonds. I don't give a shit if they're marked as optional, flaked almonds have no place in parkin. And don't get me started on this chocolate parkin aberation. Raging, I was, raging around the kitchen at the very temerity of those almonds!
Then I stopped. And considered a moment. And wondered if I now qualify for a spinster's bonnet and apron.