Desperate wifecake

Nostalgic for the days when I used to just wander the neighbourhood with no time restraints and no 9kg baby destroying my shoulders, I strapped bambino on and went for an amble this afternoon.

At the bakery, my eye was caught by something called a "wife cake". I had no idea what was in it, and the lady selling it used words that I couldn't understand to explain it, but I bought some anyway, thinking that now that I am a housewife, perhaps I should start enjoying cakes named just for me.

Apparently the name comes from a poor couple living in imperial China; when a mysterious disease spread in their village and the husband's father fell ill, the couple spent all of their money to treat him, the wife even selling herself as a slave to buy medicine. The husband, full of grief and admiration, decided that the best course of action was to bake a cake out of winter melon, almond paste, sesame and five spice. As you do. But this cake became so popular that he was able to earn enough money to buy his wife back.

Nice story.

The cake, on the other hand, is DIS.GUST.ING.

War games

My military uncle once told me that in times of war, prisoners are sometimes locked in a room into which is pumped the sound of a crying baby for hours on end.

Well, Oscar, whatever you need to know, you can stop crying - I can't take it anymore, I am ready to talk!