Don’t ask me how, but my husband was looking for some kids video for our daughter on Youtube a few days ago when they stumbled on Bohemian Rhapsody. And since then, the Queen anthem has been playing in my head on repeat. I first heard it when I was a kid, and I thought it
One of the things I like about my husband Z is that he is just such a smart dude. Okay, so he failed O-level Maths, has the memory of a goldfish and the sense of direction of a middle-aged auntie. But he is the only person I know who can identify all the harmful chemicals
SShhh… I really shouldn’t be saying this, but I have a weakness. Two weeks ago, I spent absolute ages decorating a cake that should’ve been done in just one hour. The cake was priced at $300, but with the amount of time I put in, it was worth at least $400. And I was mad
If you’re a little underwhelmed by my birthday cake, trust me, I was there first. I was turning 40 last month, and I had serious plans. I wanted to make a cake that was so majestic, such a visual assault on the senses, that all of you will have no choice but to concede what
When I was pregnant with Kate, I harboured a troubling question which I didn’t tell anyone until weeks before she was born. Intent on resolving it before she arrived, I typed these words to colleague J on my office laptop: “Did you ever feel you wouldn’t be able to love your second child as much
I’m beginning to wonder if E is really my daughter. The other day, I gave her a bit of this truly awesome blueberry cheesecake. She twirled it around in her a mouth for a bit, looked nonchalant, and went straight back to watching TV. Like, what?! How can my very own flesh and blood not
My husband Z turned 33 last week. When I asked him what cake he wanted as a present, he said a chocolate cake that’s “not too rich”. Ever heard of a chocolate cake that wasn’t rich? I haven’t. It’s like asking for steak without meat. But that’s what you get when you suddenly find yourself
This is what I made for Christmas: Trifle with strawberries, peaches and an avalanche of mascarpone cream… Creamy cheesecake topped with chocolate ganache and chopped Snickers… Rice crispies bars with gooey peanut butter and chocolate ganache… And finally, petite cheesecakes made with condensed milk on a crust of digestive biscuits. Don’t ask me what was
This is shaping up to be a sucky Christmas. For the past few weeks, I’ve been put on a low-carb, high-fibre, no-joy diet because I’ve been diagnosed with gestational diabetes — a (hopefully) temporary condition that afflicts pregnant women on the wrong side of 35. (Nawww, really? You always thought I was 28? Gee, thanks!) I feel
I admit. When I first learnt I was pregnant earlier this year, I sent a few upward missives that went: “Lord, please give me a son this time round.” My firstborn E is a girl, so out of the purely selfish reason of wanting one of each, I wanted my second to be a boy. Just think
