Currant Cake for Sally Lockhart
"Lunch, in their Bohemian household, consisted of a jug of ale, the remains of a large joint of roast beef, a fruit cake and a bag of apples, which Rosa said she had been given the night before by one of her admirers, a porter in Covent Garden Market. The ate it, with the help of one large pocket knife and their fingers (and empty chemical jars for the beer), at the crowded laboratory bench behind the shop. Sally was enchanted".
I'm ashamed to say I hadn't read any works of Philip Pullman until I started this newsletter and decided on Sally Lockhart. I was reading a book which was, to my mind, atrocious (and therefore shall remain nameless so as not to put you off reading it. You might like it). I don't usually struggle on with books. I've said before I am a giver upper of things and I mean it. Sometimes you will be rewarded for trudging through a book that's slowly sucking the life from you, but it is rare. After two chapters I put it down. Actually I didn't put it down, I kicked it under the sofa (which is where I keep all the things I don't want to see again until Peter pulls them out and gives me the withering look of someone downtrodden by my nonsense). I had put The Ruby In The Smoke at the bottom of my reading pile having bumped Sally off my 'detectives to bake for list' in place of this other dreadful book. And therein lies my mistake. If you have any of Philip Pullman's books in your immediate area, grasp them with both hands and keep them with you always. Dress them up in pyjamas and take them to bed with you if you must (making a mental note here that pyjamas for books would be a knockout Etsy shop idea, if it's not been taken already).
"Rosa, I know so little! I don't even know how to talk to people. And what I do know is so...I don't know how to put it. It's just not the sort of things that girls know. I love doing this, I can't tell you how much I love it, but it's not...I feel guilty somehow. As if I should be normal, and know all about sewing and things." I am so impressed with Sally. She is a young female character, written by a man, that actually seems like a young female. How many of those can you count? She's brilliant, conflicted, unsure, bright, and brave, without ever becoming unrealistic. Her face barely gets a second look in; it's all about her soul, and what she knows to be true. She is not the traditional detective. In fact you could argue she's not a detective at all. Her skills lie in accounting rather than espionage, and the complexity of the plot is resolved somewhat off stage. But she is there, she is central, and she faces horrible, uncertain times to protect her friends and her way of life. Lunch, in their Bohemian household, sounds very lovely indeed. I'm not convinced that people actually like fruit cake nowadays. In the past when richness and sweetness were rare I'm sure it was highly favoured. But we've got chocolate now and I'm afraid a Christmas cake is more decorative for me. So, while it may not be like the cake eaten by Sally, I have made something that I'd bring to the party. Currant cake reminds me of childhood, but this one is a little more firm and robust, perfect for bashing Mrs Holland over the head with!
200g butter, softened 175g caster sugar 3 large eggs 200g self-raising flour 150g currants Preheat the oven 170C. Grease and line a 20cm round cake tin and set aside. Using your chosen method (either by hand or using a mixer), cream the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy. Add the eggs, beating after each addition, with a tablespoon of the flour to prevent the mixture from curdling. Fold in the remaining flour and currants, and when everything is fully combined, spoon the mixture into the tin and smooth over the top. Bake for 1 hour or until a skewer inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean.