It reminds me of yesterday, which was a sad but happy day in its own right. It started with nothing but torrential rain which we managed to engage with for the full 3.5 hours that we drove to the South Coast for my Grandmother's Memorial Service. The rain continued to pour down in spits and spats, giving friends and family a short window to race from the little Church's car park, up the path and under the safety of the Church's portico. By the time we'd finished belting out some wonderful hymns, patted our eyes and wandered out of the church, it seemed like Granny was almost smiling down, as the clouds parted and the sun shone down.
My Grandmother was an amazing women, at only 5ft 1inch (although we think she was probably smaller), she was larger than life. I can still hear her proffering up her trademark answer to almost everything 'that great things come in small packages', whilst all the time referring to herself. She was a lady through and through, she knew nothing of how to be a domestic goddess, she used to mock my Grandfather for having problems finding the oven; when in honesty, I think she'd have kept jumpers in it like Cary Bradshaw, if she had half a chance. Dining out was preferable or having daily help was even more satisfying.
But something similar to my other Grandmother, and I truly think this is a generational observation, she would sit for tea at 16:00 with her china tea service and relish in her delight of Petit Fours and cakes. Her sweet tooth gave her a pop belly when she hit her mid-80s; and I can only dream that my 'pot belly' hadn't already take seed. Granny stayed trim and prided herself on her restraint when it came to her very sweet tooth; only having one 'square' of chocolate or one/two petit fours per day. So for her Memorial Service it only seemed fitting to have some treats for everyone to enjoy. And so it was that I found myself on Tuesday baking several batches of bite-size Bakewell Tarts and tray bakes of Lemon Polenta Fingers.
Once I had finished and looked down on my creations I was so confident how good they tasted (even without Man insisting on taste testing one from each batch) that I was tempted to wrap one or two up in a pastry box and send them off to Paul and Mary. Obviously I am fairly glad that I didn't having watched The Great British Bake Off last night; it's fair to say that my baking skills have some way to go before being anywhere near as fantastic as Nancy and her Moulin Rouge! I think there are times when you have to leave the fanciful cakes to the professionals.