Reminiscing about my Danish Grandmother who used to cook Orange cake for Sunday afternoon tea, I remembered how, as a child, I looked forward to visiting her house as I could smell the aroma of baking, as we arrived.
Anyone can find ten minutes to spare, right?
How long does it take to post on instagram with all those hashtags that must be included?
You can abandon convenience food a.k.a. supermarket style prepared cakes, in favour of a freshly baked treat and know that it is notdifficult nor time-consuming.
And it tastes SO much better!
This cake took me less than 10 minutes to prep, due to speedy preparation in the processor.
Then you simply wait for the oven timer to ring, while you check your social media or email and voila! Time for tea!
Perfect for a lazy Sunday afternoon this quick and easy recipe will have your mouth-watering for more. Apart from the sugar content, and a small amount of necessary butter, there are no extra unhealthy ingredients; plus it has the advantage of a bit of Vitamin C and delightful orange flavour.
Processor Orange Cake
A cake that is good for you! Yay!
Delicious as is, there’s no need to add any frosting or topping, eat it straight out of the oven.
A dusting of vanilla/icing sugar, or a simple mix of icing sugar and small amount of juice to soften to a clean frosting would be a nice option, if you aren’t counting calories or sugar content.
1 cup Caster or fine grain sugar, but ordinary sugar will do.
1 cup Self Raising flour (Self Raising flour is the same as 1 cup plain flour and 2 teaspoons of baking powder)
2 tablespoons extra of normal plain flour
2 tsp grated orange rind
1/2 cup orange juice
60 g (1/4 cup) soft butter
1. Combine sugar, flours, and orange rind in food processor with butter. Blitz sporadically until just combined.
2. Pour Orange juice through the chute with motor on.
3. Add eggs and blitz till smooth. Not too much though or your cake won’t be light.
4. Pour into well-greased bar tin (something with a base about 12 x 22cm/ 5 x 9 inch) that has been lined with grease-proof or baking paper.
5. Bake in a Moderate Oven 180º C, ( 375º F), for 40 minutes or until the top springs back when lightly pressed.
Ensure the cake cools for 5 minutes in the tin before turning out on to a wire rack.
If you would like add a Cream Cheese frosting, click here
When you are unsure of what to serve for tea, let them eat cake –
– to combine or unite a resource or commodity with (another) for mutual benefit.
Allies or Friends can come in many forms. They might support you at the end of the phone, in person, or just by you knowing that they have your back. They make life easier and more pleasant.
You don’t need an abundance of allies, even one or two makes life bearable. Maybe your best ally could be your own self.
Today’s Sunday Sayings focuses on Allies.
“Friendship doubles our joy and divides our grief” -Swedish Proverb
“Friends ask you questions; enemies question you.” Criss Jami, (Healology)
“Dude. Every mom is the most annoying human in the universe, but most of them, besides the super-abusive genuinely bad ones, are in your corner.” ― Mary H.K. Choi
Who is your ally?
How do they support you?
Everyone’s opinion is important. What do you have to say?
Something to Ponder About
Several years ago, I became fascinated with traditional proverbs and
sayings, their metaphorical layers and the many different
interpretations found within those succinct few words. I marveled at
their ability to transcend race, religion, opinions and age.
Mostly anonymous, they are a portal through time to generations past and
echo a diverse range of cultures, and the experiences of many lessons
learned and the wisdom from thousands of lives already lived. They
offer us knowledge; knowledge that is passed to us in much the same way
relay runners might pass a baton. Once it’s handed over, it is up to us
what we do with it and how we pass it on.
Some people know I’m preparing for a seachange; I’m ‘pulling up stumps,’ as they say, in the suburbs, and have already moved, in the interim, to a trendy townhouse in the inner city’s dress circle. What is it like, you might ask?
Think Gourmet ice cream and Vegan eateries, Sushi Trains on many a corner, craft beer bars playing Indie music and a variety of those glamorous shops that sell ludicrously expensive white and taupe furnishings with cushions that are perfectly positioned for looks, rather than comfort. Yep – in a nutshell – that’s Hipsterville. Right at my doorstep.
Imagine little old suburban me, walking the shared bike way in my daggy joggers, being steamrollered by cyclists festooned in those all too revealing lycra bodysuits. [Yes it did happen- several times]. The little Schnauzer was even caught in the slipstream of these semi-pros, who seemingly insist on riding three abreast and stubbornly refuse to ring their bell when overtaking. Grrr.
Or you might visualize me wandering the lazy Sunday markets where the fare on offer includes Triple shot Machiatos, Green smoothies with Turmeric and Kale or a dose of Banh mi with your breakfast falafel.
No – don’t get me wrong. The food is good and I do like it here. I do. In fact, it is easy to love this hipster lifestyle.
I do have a problem with an all too burgeoning waistline and the incessant noise. It took me well over a month to sleep past 4.20 am in the mornings, due to the parade of ‘tradies in Utes’, (tradesmen in utility vehicles) heading to work.
Seriously, who needs alarm clocks when you have the roar of light commercial engines outside your windows, Monday to Friday? These guys are up at the crack of dawn, speeding down the streets, reveling in being able to drive more recklessly due to the absence of other cars and non-existent bumper to bumper traffic at that earliest of hours.
Neither do I relish nearly being run over – twice in one week.
The narrow, horse and buggy style inner city streets, that no cat worth his salt would be found swinging in, are all very quaint if you are an early pioneer, but the restricted access makes crossing the street after 6am a bit of a death wish. And it is not that I don’t like that cozy European feel. I do, but this isn’t Europe, it’s Australia and it looks and feels like Australia. The land of empty spaces, unless you are in the inner city, of course.
And don’t get me started on the lack of on street parking around here. (Thank goodness for extra visitors park when people come to visit).
Complaints to the council about the aforementioned hazardous intersection fall on deaf ears. Yet the authorities proudly flaunt “Traffic upgrade” leaflets, which were noticeably more prevalent in the run up to elections.
The mooted traffic upgrade did nothing to address the potentially deadly corner, but detailed adding another, to my mind, slightly extravagant, turning lane for cars, 400 metres away from the aforementioned deathly bottleneck. There is no common sense in Hipsterville, it would seem.
And by goodness, neither do I welcome the many bruises appearing on my body. In particular, on my shin when it connects with the bedpost. Our former suburban house had sprawling bedrooms (thanks to the MOTH’s randomized house design from his single days when he built the old house with his father). The Inner city digs are about half the dimensions, yet we have the same number of people living here.
To its credit, the pygmy like size of the Hipster house has its advantages. It’s a dream when it comes to cleaning. Every room is so small, it takes but a jiffy to clean, but of course there is a catch, isn’t there? Not immediately obvious, the downside to this small “castle” is that I kick my toe on the corner of the bed, vanity or chair on an almost daily basis.
Furthermore, my dressing table now doubles as a computer desk, because only one of these things will fit in the bedroom space. By contrast, the new house will have two study areas and embarrassingly, I was supposed to downsize! His and Hers study areas? Works for me. Woohoo!
The Schnauzer concurs with me. In the teency weency townhouse yard, she has no place to bury a bone and must jump into a raised garden, in order to dig up a prized potplant or effect her border patrol for illegal infiltrators, such as lizards or a random Scrub turkey. But she is a little depressed. She protests strongly each morning that we must walk out on the grassy footpath, as the astro turf just doesn’t cut it, when it comes to an appropriate place for Schnauzie wees and poos.
For the minute though, I’ll relish the short walk to the shopping centre and library. I’ll swing by the bakery for freshly baked sourdough and pop around the corner for a Pizza and Peroni with the MOTH, at happy hour, without the worry of who’s driving home or being over the allowed alcohol limit for driving a car.
Running out of bread or forgetting the eggs is now batted away by me, as a minor inconvenience. Despite its shortcomings, the inner city hipster life does have its heady attractions.
Excuse me whilst I go sip some Chai or perhaps it’ll be a triple shot Mocha. Heavens, I might even take up cycling! It is all Something to Ponder About.
Our mind perceives a potential threat and becomes stuck on seeking an answer or solution, a way forward to a safer or more secure state where everything is more predictable, controlled or orderly. This is worry. For some, worry leads to anxiety.
For every behaviour, there is a perceived mental pay-off. What’s the pay-off for the time we devote to this practise of worrying?
Do we feel better for worrying? Or worse? Does it rob us of valuable time and energy?
“Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow”
“Don’t be intimidated by what you don’t know.
That can be your greatest strength and ensure that you do things differently from everyone else”
~ Sara Blakely (American businesswoman)
Worry takes our attention away from the present, from what is real and we are dwelling in possibilities – either in the past, or the possible future. The more possible outcomes, the more we worry, and the harder it is to let go. It makes us feel helpless or trapped.
Sara Blakely’s words can apply to many different situations.