Hallowe'en

Well, one culinary triumph follows another. The Bavarian chocolate cream used 6 egg yolks, and what's a girl to do with 6 leftover egg whites?

Make meringue ghosts for Hallowe'en. That's what. And here they are.



It felt all wrong, really, because in my childhood, meringues were Christmas fare. But I thoroughly enjoyed making them, accompanied by all the memories of helping my mother make trayfuls of the things, and then sandwiching them together in pairs, flat bottom to flat bottom, with whipped cream. My mother had meringue-making down to a fine art. I loved feeling the friendly ghosts of meringues past hovering around me, as I tried my own (and no, I've never done them before, since I hear you all asking, in surprised voices - listen, I'm only 45, when would I have had time to try making meringues before now?).

If I'd been writing the recipe for meringues, instead of St Delia, I'd have said something like this: "Heat the oven to 300 degrees, but the minute you put the meringues in, turn it down straightaway, immediately, right then and there, don't forget to do that, don't get on with clearing up, and have a good looky round your kitchen cupboards for black food gel icing for the eyes, because if you leave the oven at 300 for 15 minutes before you check back to the recipe and remember that it told you to lower the temperature, the meringues will still taste fine, but they will be slightly brown, instead of ghoulishly white". Which is why I don't write cookery books, because they would probably turn out rather long. On the other hand, slightly brown ghosts are good, in these politically correct days.

Here's one who didn't make it to school for 9-yo's party, because 9-yo was fond of it, and wanted to keep it at home, all for himself.



Here are some other treats I made for the party.



The website called them forked eyeballs. Forked eyeballs, peoples, forked eyeballs. I made some with red gel icing, and some with ordinary red icing.


Husband said that the ones with gel icing were more realistic, which really begs the question: how does he know what an eyeball on a fork looks like? He also said they looked more realistic than the picture on the website, which is why I married him. Well, it's not exactly why I married him. I don't remember eyeballs on forks feeding into that decision, 16 years ago. But Husband, if you're reading this, you'll be pleased to know that forked eyeballs or no forked eyeballs, I'm glad I did. Decide to marry you. Actually, I don't think websites were even invented then.

Where was I? The eyeballs weren't all as perfectly round as these ones. Dillons (who never replied to me about my query on aseptic drinks, by the way - bad customer service Dillons!) had run out of their own fresh baked doughnut holes, so I had to use the kind that have been sitting in a packet on a shelf since May, and they were so dry that when I forked them, they tended to split in half. Some I managed to catch before they were completely split, and glue together the crack with the melted white chocolate. But I ended up using some halves, to produce oddly shaped eyeballs with one flat side. But this is Hallowe'en, and oddly shaped is good too. Might even be politically correct. I mean, why should we discriminate against people with oddly shaped eyeballs?

Dillons also didn't have any black plastic forks, which would have looked much better than clear. I am falling out of love with Dillons.

Meanwhile, on the costume front, we have been decidedly lack-lustre in our efforts. 13-yo declares himself too old for dressing up. 9-yo is sporting the same alien commander costume I purchased last year from Target. It's a long black robe, with a scary mask which won't stay on very well, so in 9-yo's case, it's a long black robe. 6-yo is a fairy, in a fairy dress that is a little small for her, but looks fine over a long-sleeved stripey top and stripey tights. Originally she was going to be the tooth fairy, as she was last year, but then she thought perhaps she'd be the candy fairy. I suggested the stripey fairy, but that was met with a certain scorn - "the stripey fairy?" - and she concluded that she'd just be a plain fairy. Which suits me just fine, because I'm all out of creative juice after my exertions in the kitchen, and a plain fairy needs no accessories.