Auntie Margo’s rock cakes

An alteration in the treatment of my APS / Hughes Syndrome – more meds, many more meds – is rendering me seriously redundant at the moment. And that includes keeping me away from the kitchen. Unfortunately for my other half, that means that he has been subjected to lots of easy repeat meals and ready meals when he makes it in from work after a long day.

I did make a major effort today to put together a slow roast lamb shoulder – not that it takes major effort, of course. I managed to serve him the lamb accompanied by red cabbage, green beans and roast potatoes. It might have knocked me for the rest of the day – I haven’t moved off the sofa since –  but he was mightily appreciative of some proper home cooking.

Since I have been slogging along, I have turned instead to my cook books and to my archive, reading through to find some recipes I have missed to tackle when I eventually get back in action. And I came upon something I requested from someone a long time ago, but haven’t yet shared on the blog.

When I was young, I was looked after by a woman named Margo, an absolutely wonderful lady who I still call ‘auntie’ and visit to this day. Every day when I arrived at her house after school, I’d enter the back door to step right into a kitchen full of wonderful aromas and counters laden with home baking.

In addition to whatever she was making for her own family that evening – my dad would have long picked me up before that was served – she always had cooling trays and tins of homemade buns and cakes on the go, including shortbread, drop scones, regular scones, fairy cakes (with the proper ‘fairy wings’ on top), plain buns with raisins or chocolate chips and, my favourite, her rock cakes.

When I took my place at her kitchen counter, she’d let me have one of them halved and buttered along with a glass of milk. It was a really lovely regular treat, one I look back on fondly, and so a few months ago, I wrote to her to ask for the recipe.

IMG_7050She was as modest as ever in her reply – “as you know I’m no baker” – but take it from me, she could whip up delicious treats in no time with no need for a recipe. She was an absolutely wonderful home cook. And she had included her recipe for my favourite rock buns along with her version of queen cakes plus the lovely mince dinner she’d given to me when I stayed with her during school holidays.

I will keep the letter and the recipes in her handwriting for all of the rest of my life and I’m so chuffed to have them. She means the world to me and these simple little cooking memories are a surprisingly powerful source of joy. While I’m feeling a bit rough, I’m more than happy to indulge in this trip down memory lane.

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