Having spent the past million and a half weeks sewing moons and bats and jack-o’-lanterns for our Hallowe’en bunting, I today spent five hours baking.
Five hours. I baked dozens of bat sugar cookies with lemon glace icing.
Other than the first batch, they came out very well. (The first batch was a very frilly pink rather than a bloody red as Ribena + icing sugar = Barbie’s convertible.)
But sugar bat cookies and lemon glace icing? A very happy marriage.
I baked dozens of bone sugar cookies with lemon glace icing.
(They look like sausages here, but were fantastically horrible up close.)
I thought we would have dozens left, but so many ghoulies and ghosties and witches and monsters turned up with such sweet smiles at the door that all my cookies disappeared.
“Nibble, nibble, nubble … who gnaws my house to rubble?”" I would croak as I walked, in a black dress and my witch’s hat, to the door with a silver tray heaped with bones.
(When two little six-year-olds blanched, I had to revert to my everyday voice.)
Monkey was so happy. She loves all things spooky. So Hallowe’en? You can imagine.
She went trick or treating with Daddy, who was dressed as a pirate. Meanwhile, I baked a beautiful – BEAUTIFUL – skull cake (my very first).
No buttercream; I iced him with light cream cheese beaten with a mixture of icing and caster sugars and vanilla and arranged him on a wonderfully horrible old baking sheet.
Our silver mermaid goddess watched, impassive.
Mr. Cake was so realistic that cutting into his cranium was somewhat unnerving (I should have called on my old pal Erica, a neurosurgeon). I had to steel myself. Hacked into his head. The result was glorious – all white chocolate and rum. Our neighbours had seconds.
The Jack o’ Lantern grinned.
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.