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Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

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Boyfriend really likes Victoria sponge, which is a very British type of cake. I am not really fond of it, can’t see the allure of a spongy cake with jam and lots of cream.

Last week it was Boyfriend’s birthday, and it was really supposed to be about him. But relationships are all about compromise, so I managed to combine healthy version with his favourite things and make it work.

Firstly, for breakfast there were pancakes. A bit different to your usual type – buckwheat and buttermilk ones. You can find the recipe here.

buckwheat and buttermilk pancakes

buckwheat and buttermilk pancakes

buckwheat and buttermilk pancakes

buckwheat and buttermilk pancakes

And then for Victoria Sponge I made gluten free Almond and Polenta cake as a base. Here’s the recipe.

I divided the cake into two tins. When the cake cooled down, I spread strawberry jam on the top of the one cake ( I used sugar free St. Dalfour jam). Then I replaced cream with Greek yogurt. You have to use proper Greek full fat yoghurt to have the right thickness. I mixed 1 1/2 cup of yoghurt with 3 tbsp agave syrup, spread half of it on the bottom of the other cake, put it together with the one with jam. Then spread the remaining yogurt on top of the cake and decorate with strawberries. And voila! Gluten free, sugar free so called ‘Victoria Sponge Cake’.

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

Almond and Polenta Victoria Sponge

And you wouldn’t believe what we watched it with….

‘Saving Mr Banks’.

I think there is no better way to celebrate someone’s birthday than to watch a story where the main character has issues caused by turbulent childhood, charismatic , alcoholic father, who constantly looses one job after another and then – spoiler!- DIES.

If you haven’t watched it, it’s a story about the author of ‘Mary Poppins’ traveling to Los Angeles from London to meet Walt Disney. Mr Disney tried for 20 years to get the rights to her book, she kept refusing until her finances became a bit strapped. The author – Mrs Travis is played brilliantly by Emma Thompson and for that reason you should watch it. To me Emma Thompson can read a directory and it would be magnificent. I love the fact that her character in ‘Saving Mr Banks’ is a right bitch for the first hour. What can I say, I can’t resist a bitchy women, they are the best!

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About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

2 responses »

  1. Pancakes, Victoria Sponge and bitchy women.
    Sounds like a perfect birthday to me!

    Reply

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