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Carrot cupcakes

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Everyone who has spent some time at University has got a different memory of it.  To some people it was more like ‘Accepted’, to some more like ’22 Jump Street’ and to some like ‘Educating Rita’. I bet there are films which made a few young souls want to study at university so they could enjoy some of the perks featured in films.

My memory is more like ‘Wonder Boys’. Not because I went on a crazy rampage with my professor and stole some collectable possession from the dean, shot his dog and got high. It’s more the vibe, atmosphere of the film which makes me think of my student life. Long discussions lasting until the middle of the night, witty jokes, campus life. Yes, I had a very boring student life, but I was studying what I wanted, bringing up the Apple of My Eye, earning money by making crochet gloves and meeting a few exceptional people who became my best friends (I blurb about them here from time to time). Also meeting the most fascinating lecturers who inspired many generations of students and made me believe in myself. I met up with one of them years later and we got very, very drunk. Aaah, memories…light the corners of my eyes… But before that he changed my perception of many things and had a massive influence on my philosophical thinking (and detestation of postmodernism).

But back to the film.

‘Wonder Boys’ is filled with an amazing cast. Michael Douglas plays a college professor who smokes weed, doesn’t know who he loves – his 3rd wife who’d just left him or his mistress (breathtaking Francis McDormand), and who’s trying to write his second novel. His first published 7 years ago was a great success, with the second he’s not getting anywhere, although he is on the 2000th something page.

His troubled but talented student is played by Toby Maguire and his agent by the divine Robert Downey Jr. With a good script (based on a book) and magnificent cast you can’t really go wrong.

The film is wonderful, tender and a bit bonkers. If it was a dish, it would be something classy and lipsmacking. But if you watch it, have something wholesome, like:

Carrot Cupcakes:

carrot cupcakes

carrot cupcakes

For the cupcakes:

2 cups spelt flour

2 eggs

1 cup xylitol

1 1/3 vegetable oil

5-6 carrots, grated

2 tbsp cinnamon

1 cup raisins

1 cup chopped pecans

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp vanilla extract

For the frosting:

1 1/2 cup Greek yoghurt

3 tbsp agave syrup

1 tsp vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 180C. Line muffin tin with paper liners.

2. Beat eggs, xylitol and oil together until light yellow. Add vanilla. In another bowl sift together flour, cinnamon and baking powder.

3. Add dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, add raisins, pecans and carrots. Mix well.

4. Scoop the batter into the muffin cups. Bake until the toothpick comes out clean. Cool.

5. Mix Greek yoghurt with agave syrup and vanilla extract. When cupcakes are cool, frost them.

carrot cupcakes

carrot cupcakes

carrot cupcakes

carrot cupcakes

carrot cupcakes

carrot cupcakes

 

 

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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…

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