Thursday, 25 April 2013

Madeleines and lemonade

When my husband and I were first going out, I always used to worry that his female friends with children, or the wives of his male friends with children, wouldn't like me.

I was worried that they wouldn't like me because I was ten or so years younger and I didn't have children. I assumed they would find me annoying and resent my child-free state, my bouncy boobs, my very long, luxury hair that I had 45 minutes spare each morning to blow dry, style and finish with two coats of shellac.

But none of them did. They were all just charming and if I said stupid or ignorant things about children it didn't show in their faces. Not a flicker. Not for a moment. I assumed that if I was them I would find me irritating, but I was wrong.

Then I had a child of my own and I understood why they were all able to be so beatific.They looked at me and saw not a carefree young woman with life at her feet: they saw - consciously or unconsciously - a lamb to the slaughter. And the pity in their hearts for me translated effortlessly into a sunny kindness.

They knew this: either I would have kids and would have my ass handed to me by Mother Nature without them having to lift a finger, or I would not have kids and have my ass handed to me by the whole freaking world asking endless, rude questions about when are you going to and if not why not and don't you want them and shouldn't you get on with it? and can't you have them? and all that shit that people say to the childless like no-one has ever asked them any of those questions before.

They are mostly out the other side of little kids, are Giles's friends - their youngest children are about five and they all just go on holiday all the time and are whippet thin with amazing jobs and beautiful clothes. And they're all still nice to me and sympathetic and generous about the hassles and burdens of new motherhood.

And now it's my turn to be nice. I meet child-free people - both male and female - who, consciously or unconsciously, say blithe, tactless and ridiculous things about children, the freedom of their lives, the things they will or will not be doing in the future, the holidays they have been on and all that. And it's so easy to be nice about it all.

Because although I will soon be starting with a newborn all over again, I can start crossing things off the list: never have to be pregnant again, never have to give birth again, never have to breastfeed again, knicker area more or less in working order, (give or take a few patch-up procedures), back in old clothes, back working, baby sleeping through (ish), baby sitting up... I may have all sorts of unspeakable horrors in front of me but there is light at the end of the tunnel. And it's not a train coming the other way.

But you... I think, looking around at my childless peers approaching the twilight zone of their mid-thirties... you have got to do all of this, from scratch, if you want kids. And the end of fun, the end of your life as you know it when it comes, is so abrupt and feels so much like it's forever, (though it's not), that the pity in my heart allows me to genuinely enjoy, with you, your latest holiday, your skinny bum, your bouyant bosom, that light of blissful, ignorant confidence in your eyes.

I genuinely enjoy it with you as I genuinely enjoy the unfettered delight that my toddler takes in balloons, or seeing a baby rabbit, or receiving an ice cream. I can delight with you because, as with my toddler, I know that quite soon it's all going to be over and you're both, in your own ways, going to have to grow up in the most necessary and horrible way imaginable.

The view from the other side is, I know, delightful. Children are worth it if only because the early years with them can be so very ghastly that it makes you really appreciate life anew (the joys of which, in your late twenties and early thirties, may have become dull and commonplace). When your youngest child hits 18 months it is, I imagine, like being Scrooge and waking up to find that it's Christmas Day and you've got a chance at life all over again.

It is in contemplation of these simple pleasures that I have recently been making madeleines and lemonade for tea.

People coming round for tea is a thing that happens endlessly when you  have children. The morning is a time for adventure and activity, but in the afternoon, people slob about and have tea. I, especially, cannot leave the house most afternoons because we are in a phase of Kitty's nap-drop that means that she won't sleep at all during the day but now has a danger zone from 4pm onwards, where if she's in a buggy or a car she will pass out.

Anyway, if you are feeling generous towards your teatime guests you could make them madeleines, which only involves the purchase of a madeleine tray and the making of a very simple cake batter. They are good for tea because there is nothing more delicious than freshly baked sponge batter, but fairy cakes are stupid and you might not want to bake an entire massive cake.

I bought my madeleine tray off Amazon and I'm not that pleased with it, just between you and me. I think the shell shape it gives is unsatisfying and indistinct - even though it came highly recommended. Maybe you will have more luck with yours.

Then you make the following sponge mix - (courtesy of Michel Roux) - it is a very good, very easy mix, with no need to cream the butter and sugar. Mine came out brilliantly and I had Kitty sabotaging the whole thing, yapping at my heels shrieking "Can I have a go?" every two seconds, so YOU can certainly ace it.

Michel claims this mix makes enough for 12, but I had too much for my 12-hole tin. I gave the remainder to Kitty to wipe all over herself, which she found amusing.

100g MELTED butter
100g plain flour
3/4 tsp baking powder
2 eggs
100 sugar
juice and chopped zest of one lemon (this is optional, but is very nice)

1 Preheat your oven to 200C. This is important - the oven needs to be really nice and hot when your madeleines go in

2 Grease your madeleine tray with some extra butter, then sprinkle with some extra flour and shake out the excess - never a precise job, this - just do your best

3 Whisk together the eggs and sugar. You can do this with an electric whisk if you like. We did it with a hand whisk - Kitty started it off and I finished it. Kitty was a bit useless so I gave it (but not her) a good solid beating towards the end, which worked fine.

4 Then add your other ingredients and give a firm, brief whisk to incorporate everything. Beat until just mixed - don't worry about the odd lump.

5 Leave the mix to sit for a few minutes to allow the baking powder to act before spooning into the tray

6 When filling your madeleine tray, fill to just under the top, so that when the sponge rises it just fills the dip, rather than spilling out over the top.

7 Bake for 8-10 minutes

You can dip madeleines into or drizzle with all manner of exciting things - chocolate, rose-water icing, orange icing - anything you like really. If you wanted to add extra flavours, maybe leave out the lemon element of this sponge mix as it might interfere.

For the lemonade

The cocktail mixer known as gomme, or sugar syrup, is what makes lemonade really easy. It is available from Waitrose or, I suspect, any bottle shop like Thresher's (do they still exist?)

Without gomme you have to do a thing where you simmer the lemonade and the sugar together so that the sugar dissolves and then let the mix cool down, which is a bore.

This is more, really, a recipe for citron presse, another French thing, with which I'm sure you're familiar, where you're given a load of lemon juice in the bottom of a glasss, a weeny pitcher of water and a bottle of gomme, with which to mix for yourself a refreshing bev.

What I do is squeeze a lot of lemons and limes (about 2 per person) into a jug, (using my excellent bright yellow openy-closey lemon squeezer, which I really recommend if you haven't got one already), then pour about an inch of lemon juice into glasses filled with ice cubes and a single spoon, top with fizzy water and then let everyone apply and stir in their own gomme from another jug. You could add a sprig of mint if you were feeling really caring.

Then we all sit around while I patronise everyone like mad, and they all take it because I've just made fucking madeleines and lemonade.


  1. So pleased you made these, I'm planning to do this for my daughter's first birthday for the somewhat cheesy reason that her name is Madeleine... they look delicious

  2. I love my wife dearly, she's the most wonderful and beautiful woman in the world, but sometimes I wish she'd do shit like this and crack out the madeleines and home-made lemonade. That Giles bloke is a lucky bugger!

    1. yes but your wife is probably nice to you, I am a fucking bitch to my husband all the time and think that making sponge cakes (which he doesn't eat) makes up for it. he does drink the lemonade though

    2. I guess the presentation in type is more endearing than the snarl-faced-in-the-flesh-bitchy version!!

      Apols for anon business BTW, stupid computer thing is acting the fool.

  3. As your posts go, that's a bit of a classic. I'm also quite proud that I've resisted making any predictable, smartarse Proust / madeleine / À la recherche quips.

  4. Ah yes, I went through a big madeleine phase when my children were young. So easy to mix, so quick to cook. I was trying to lay down some strong Proustian memories in them. Not sure yet if it worked. I might make some more next Summer. I find if you put your batter in the fridge, it condenses a bit and you won't have any leftover. I never had the shell trays when I made mine but made them in very shallow drop scone trays. The shell trays are quite fiddly to grease and clean later. Don't wish all the years away. I found them really easier to bear once I stopped wishing they'd grow up. Good luck with the newborn.

  5. Where is your lemon squeezy thing from? I want one. P.S I am 5.5 months preg w first and phrase 'patch up procedures' alarms me. *Crosses legs* Ha ha bit late now!

    1. Sometimes I wish I lived in John Lewis.

    2. omg ME TOO

      p.s. you probably won't need any patch up procedures and if you do require one, it'll be fine I promise

  6. Love it! Love how honest you about your feelings to women without kids, I feel exactly the same but feel like an absolute bitch when I'm thinking how shit their lives will be when they have kids, I feel like you've just given me the right to feel a little bit smug! However in about 5 months I'm about to go through the newborn phase again so no doubt it will be my childless friends turn to feel smug again, seems to be a constant cycle.
    Don't think I've ever had the delights of citron press (as I suspected I'm not very posh) - you've made it something I need to try. Roll on summer in the garden and showing off my madeleine/citron press prowess!

  7. This one has good reviews?

  8. Is gomme different to the simple sugar syrup used in cocktails (two parts sugar dissolved in one part water)?
    Love this post btw. Made me think about things.

  9. Have you ever tried an Arnold Palmer? It's half iced tea and half lemonade. Also, I found if you'd like better crinkles in your madeleines under fill your madeleine pan.

  10. haa! i have JUST realised what it is my nain (gran) gave me a while back...a bloody madeleine tray!! gonna give these babies a go one night!

  11. I've read this blog since before you were married and I really think your writing in the past few months has been some of the best

  12. I kind of annoys me how easy these are because I LOVE THEM AND THEY'RE SO EXPENSIVE.Like for example, macarons but those are veeerrrryyy tricky so it's OK. I get it. They have to expensive. But Esther, these look awesome. THANK YOU! Btw what did you use to go urs? Filling them with lemon curd to carry on citrus theme might tricksy them up a bit. (I'm my own worst enemy, I know).

  13. Oh Esther, i had JUST got myself persuaded that i'm ready to do the baby thing, and now you've scared me off!!!!! Can i just buy Kitty off you to save me the 18 months plus gestation that i clearly have to slog through??!!! Or can you please do a thing about how ace babies are????

  14. Your bright yellow openy closey lemon squeezy thing is called a Mexican elbow.

    I have just got a green one for limes but because I am one of those no-children people I used it to make cocktails instead.

  15. It's almost like a form of schadenfreude on lay-by. It's not that I desperately want everybody to experience the brutal learning curve that is having a baby but there IS some level of satisfaction, alright it's probably smugness, that comes from having done it and survived. You're so right about lambs to the slaughter!

  16. So so true and so well put.

  17. Please don't anticipate baby hell with number 2. My experience is that baby 2 is just infinitesimally easier; sleeps better, feeds better, does everything quicker and is generally happy. Plus you have a two and a half year old and in my opinion (after the day I've had..) if you can handle that you can handle ANYTHING.

  18. I have a deep love for you because of the way you write about motherhood. You get it.
    I read paragraphs of this post out to my husband in bed last night. It was 11.30 on a Sunday but he paid attention. That's a compliment.
    Hello from Aus and thank you! x

  19. I love this post, thank you Esther! I found your blog last week and have been reading your archives somewhat obsessively since then.

    I am sitting on the couch this morning on the ACTUAL DUE DATE of my second child. My first, an incredibly active 18 month old boy, is, thank goodness, at daycare. I'm exhausted after a weekend of chasing him around everywhere, and being woken up (as is standard) at 6am by the little dictator who insists on getting up and then climbs all over me until I get up with him. The fact that - sometime this week, very probably, and maybe even today! Argh! - I will have both this little dictator and a newborn baby to cope with, is daunting to say the least. Your point about being able to see the light at the end of the tunnel is so very pertinent. I know the next six months will be hell (interspersed, of course, with moments of great joy), but I also know from experience now that this is not the end of life as I know it for all time - just for the next 18-24 months. At which point, I hope, the two kiddies may just be able to play with each other and go to sleep at a reasonable time and I might be back to normal shape, more or less, and able to stay up occasionally with a few glasses of wine, and plan for a future for myself as well as my children. Life, in other words, will return! Or some semblance of it, anyway. So thank you! Easier to cope with the heartburn and pre-labour contractions and pelvic pain etc etc knowing that all of this is temporary!

    Also, the madeleines look YUM and I have always wanted to try them, so will give them a go if this baby doesn't come and interrupt things in the next couple of days.

  20. I love the idea of making madeleines and have been perusing moulds on Lakeland. I'd love to make friands too. Maybe you could do a post about those, in your copiuous spare time once the new baby comes?!

  21. Did you use tall glasses for this like hi balls or water glasses?

  22. Have been meaning to try this recipe since it was posted. Today was the day and they are fan-bleedin-tastic. First batch a little too brown as out oven tends to be hotter than specified, but second batch, after oven turned down, are perfect and taste great.