I keep thinking of Angel Slices. Sorry about that.
And now that the time has come to prune ‘a little’ around my reading chair – again – I’m thinking even more about those Mr Kipling pink and sugary monstrosities. I still have a small corner where I can put my mug of tea down, so in theory I could have something sweet with it.
But I’m not here to talk about eating. Or not much. Actually I am, but only in connection with books. There are a few ‘Angel Slices’ in the jiffy bags bringing books in. There are also homemade scones, cheap and nasty biscuits, some M&S bakery type items and occasionally something so exquisite it could have been baked by Regnbågen or Börjes in my holiday neck of the woods.
In case anyone wonders why their review copies don’t come squashed in with teatime treats, I have to tell you I am only comparing the quality of reading material with how good these cakes taste.
When I discovered Angel Slices (the culinary kind) a couple of years ago, I was very very surprised. I wouldn’t have dreamed of buying a packet. Ever. Pink. Icing. Multicoloured sponge. Garish. Clearly a sugar treat for small children. Not for people like me, who have eaten at Regnbågen. Someone who likes the best kind of homemade scones dripping with butter, rather than their dry cousins wrapped in cellophane, masquerading as the real deal.
But when I desperately needed something sweet one day, I remembered that Son and the Resident IT Consultant had, for some very obscure reason, bought Angel Slices. I ate one. Probably ate another one after that. They were lovely! Who’d have thought?
So it might be pink and look cheap, but don’t (always) judge the cake by its looks. Mostly it works but, as I have just ‘proved’, not always. It’s the same with books. There are a number of Angel Slice-looking books crossing my threshold. Some read like Party Rings taste, or worse. Others are even more wonderful than Angel Slices.
This train of thought made me consider other types of books. Obviously homemade rye bread books, preferably sourdough, are ‘fantastic’ and will always be suggested by book snobs. The Regnbågen style novel is rare, but wonderful when you find it. The homemade scone book also comes highly recommended. The thing about these books is that you can easily tell what category they belong in.
There are lots of books you know you’ll enjoy, because they are the Mars bars of literature. Not good for you, but providing your teeth survive, they give pleasure for the moment. You might not want to mention publicly that you’ve read them, or how many, or quite how frequently.
Whereas with mainstream M&S baking you know it’s perfectly OK to bring it up in polite conversation. It’s good, but six months later you won’t necessarily remember the details.
I’m about to rearrange my overflowing cake plate. It’s tiered by now. Some will become duck food and some I can put in the freezer. Not literally, on account of future plum jam and that other abomination, white sliced bread.
Where am I going with this? Not sure. I’ll put the kettle on and think some more. Unless it was the thinking that baked me into this corner in the first place.