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Come on Dads…make a difference at the MADS!

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I am honoured and proud to have been asked to be a judge for this year’s MADS (that’s Mum and Dads) Awards. For this year, there is a cause to champion: the cause of Dad Bloggers.

Many of you will recall  there was quite a furore following the announcement of last year’s MADS finalists because only one Dad Blogger made the final cut –  the supremely talented Tom  Arber (who co-blogs with his wife Becky at Ar-Blog) in the Photography category.

This cued a flurry of head-scratching and angst amongst our ilk (summarised beautifully in this brilliantly written post by a dad!): Were dads not going enough? Were we not social networky enough? Were we such a tiny minority in the parent blogger world that no matter how loud we shouted it would always come out as a squeak?

Some called for a distinct category for the male of the species; others thought this would be positive discrimination and that dads should be judged against the mums on their own merits, breasts and testicles not withstanding.

In the end, the wise organisers and sponsors of the MADS decided that dads could and should be able to hold their own!

Perhaps all they needed was somebody to bang their drum a little louder. Well, here I am, kettle drum to the left of me, bass drum to the right, holding two massive great cabers ready to bang proud and loud.

I follow lots of dad blogs (and mum blogs and food blogs, too) and there is absolutely no reason why we should not be right up there, at the top of the mountain, slugging it out, word-for-word, photo-for-photo, whimsy-for-whimsy, anecdote-for-anecdote, tip-for-tip, tat-for-tat with our funny, creative, inspiring sisters.

So bring it on. Get stuck in. Identify your favourtie blogs – dads or mums – and nominate away.

There are loads of categories to choose from and I can already think of some worthy contenders who should have a presence in several.

However, I’m not allowed to nominate. I’m a judge. Impartial, see!  But YOU can – and MUST.

There are 16 categories in all, with a fantastic prize for the winning blog attached to each, ranging from a holiday to a Kindle Fire to Mothercare vouchers to Skylanders.

So who are you going to nominate for…

MAD Blog of the Year

Best Blog Writer

Best Baby Blog

Pregnancy

Family Travel

New

Family Life

Craft

Food

Innovative

MAD Blog for Family Fun

Thrifty

Schooldays

Entertaining

Photography

Sooooooooo many to choose from. Soooooooooo little time. Click here and get nominating now.

A word about me: What qualifies me to be a judge?

Nothing, really. I’m a blogger, just like everyone else who wants to be nominated. Food and parenting are my whimsies and last year, I thought I might make a shortlist through my Reluctant Housedad blog.

But like lots of dads, I ended up disappointed. And like lots of dads, I concluded I needed to raise my game.

I’ve been blogging about family life since December 2010, ever since my wife and I swapped roles following redundancy from my job as a magazine editor. I became a reluctant housedad to our three young children while my wife went to work and brought home the bacon.

Since our youngest started school, I’ve made a living working from home  as a freelance writer, writing about parenting and lifestyle issues.  There’s more info about all the judges here.

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Recipe Shed: Spooky Halloween Cupcakes

Perhaps it’s the full moon, but for some reason I’m not half as grumpy about Halloween as I was last year.

Then, I fell into the Victor Meldrew stereotype of complaining about the commercialism, the cost of costumes, the grimness of dragging a mini-Grim Reaper around the dark streets to knock on neighbours’ doors, the perception of teenagers using the occasion as a licence to extort money with menace (even though that never actually happens).

I’m not sure what the reason for the mood change is: perhaps two years as a Reluctant Housedad has turned my brain to blancmange from being stuck at home alone for too long and thus I welcome any excuse to get out or meet other people.

But I suspect the real reason is what it means to my three children. They have been buzzing about it ever since the Halloween treats first started appearing on the supermarket shelves around about Easter (!).

Even though I know and you know that it is a cynical American import (though, historically, Halloween was created to celebrate the burning of the last witch in England), it has become as important to them as Christmas (almost) and birthdays (hmmm!).

It’s quite simply an excuse for dressing up, stuffing themselves with more free sweets than their stomachs can cope with and experiencing the gentle thrill of feeling scared whilst feeling the security of a parent’s clasped hand.

And so this year, I have thrown myself into Halloween wholeheartedly. This week, I bought costumes for the kids (a Scary Fairy for my 10-year-old stepdaughter; a Skeleton Pirate costume for my eight-year-old son; and a Grim Reaper outfit, complete with scythe, for this five-year-old brother) for them to wear at their school’s half-term Halloween Party.

Each equipped with sharp swords, broomsticks and scythes – because, thankfully, our head teacher is not one of the Health ‘n Safety Gone Mad Brigade.

Then last Thursday, I spent the day scooping out pumpkins for them to decorate in the evening, and making these spooky cupcakes for the party.

Once upon a time, I’d have said baking cupcakes was a women’s-only pursuit, but since the all-male final in the Great British Bake-Off I figure what the hell. Besides, I got the kids to help, and it was great fun.

Halloween? Bring it on. Yes, I used to be a miserable old werewolf…but I’m alright no-ow-wooooooooo! (That’s a joke, by the way).

Spooky Halloween Cupcakes

Makes 48

350g golden caster sugar

350g butter

350g self raising flour

6 eggs

2 tsp of baking powder

Cocoa powder/instant hot chocolate powder

1. With a whisk or wooden spoon, cream the butter and sugar.

2. Beat in the eggs and flour a little at a time until smooth. Add baking powder and enough cocoa powder (or instant hot chocolate powder) to make a light brown batter that drops easily from the spoon. If needed, loosen with a few drops of milk.

3. Divide into 48 cupcake cases and bake for 20-25 mins at 170C (160C fan)/Gas 3.

4. Remove from the oven when the cakes spring back to the touch.

5. When completely cool, decorate with buttercream icing (use bought or mix double the amount of icing sugar to butter) coloured green or orange with food colouring.


6. To make the webs, pipe two thin concentric circles of chocolate buttercream on top of the cake. Then pipe spokes from the middle to the edge of the cake to create a web.

7. To make the spiders, place a large chocolate button in the centre of the cake and pipe on 8 legs in chocolate icing. Attach edible golden balls for eyes, secured by a blob of icing.

• This article first appeared on Parentdish.co.uk

 

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How to (sort of) carve a Halloween Pumpkin

It’s every child’s dream to have their very own pumpkin to take to bed at night, shine a torch inside, then scare the living wits out of themselves. And it is every housedad’s dream to provide that pleasure. But even more than that, it is my own personal goal to retain as much of the juicy pumpkin flesh to enable me to cook something with it. I’ve not got to that stage yet because these monsters have to be stuck outside our front door so that Trick or Treaters can know that we have piles of tooth-rotting sweets to give away, so watch this space.

In the meantime, here’s a very amateurish How To Guide to carving a Halloween Pumpkin, with the help of a Scary Pirate and the  Cutest Grim Reaper you will ever see (hopefully you won’t be seein a less cute one any time soon!)

1. Buy a pumpkin. This one cost £1 from my local market stall.

2. Take a felt tip pen and draw a circle around the stalk at the top. Rub it out and draw it again so it’s a bit more circular.

3. With a very sharp knife, saw along the circle. Re-attached tip of finger with a plaster.

 

4. Pull the top out using the stalk as a handle to reveal a very satisfying chandelier of seedy gore. Step back as you wonder if this is what a vegetable would look like if it had haemorrhoids!

5. Adopt the position of a vet about to stick its hand up a cow’s nethers and pull out all the seeds. Scrape as many out with your fingernails. Wince. Shudder. Wash hands.

6. To avoid rim decay (!), smear a healthy dollop of Vaseline or lip balm around the open wounds of the cut flesh.

7. Take a piece of paper and get one small boy to draw a scary face. Make small boy pose with it for scale and contrast.

8. Cut out drawing with scissors to make a stencil and get small boy to hold it over the pumpkin as a template. Ignore.

9. Using another, or same, felt tip to draw a face roughly similar to the one small boy drew on paper. Put fingers in ears and say ‘La la la’ when small boy erupts into cries of protest when it doesn’t compare.

10. Tell small boy to go and watch TV or play on the computer while you carve out scary face with serrated knife, explaining: ‘This is MAN’s work.’ Reveal artisan masterpiece to small boy. Force him to hold it up for camera, as if proud, or he won’t be going to the Halloween party.

11. Stick Mum’s best towel on the table and assemble variety of painting substances. Force small boy to strip to underpants because ‘that stuff will never come out in the wash and I’m not here to spend the rest of my life rubbing Vanish into the stains. I’m not your slave, you know.’

12. Repeat all of the above with another small boy.

14. Leave the kitchen. Cross fingers and hope the Third World War won’t have happened while you’re away.

15. Heap lavish praise on two small boys for their Picasso-like genius at creating the best pumpkins that have ever been seen. Then prepare them for the disappoint of not winning the school Pumpkin Competition by explainign that it’s the taking part, not the winning, that counts.

16. Leave small boys to assume their alter egos to go and fight the ghosts and ghoulies.

UPDATE: This might come as an enormous surprise to you, but neither pumpkin was placed in the school Halloween Pumpkin Competition – despite me offering the Head Teacher a generous bribe!

 

 

 

 

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Dads’ Dining Club Review: Viajante, Bethnal Green Town Hall, London, E2

We auditioned a new member of the Dad’s Dining Club last week with a probationary culinary challenge: choose a restaurant that would blow our palates away. The criteria is simple: fantastic food, great experience, within a two mile radius of central London – and for less than £100 a head, including wine.

But first there was the juvenile laying of clues to keep us all guessing about where he’d chosen. We were told this restaurant had no menu (although you can tell them about dietary restrictions in advance – in my case, an allergy to fish), but more cryptically: “A traveller goes east for a glass of Port.”

Can you guess where it is yet? I’ll give you a simpler clue. Just have a look at the title of this post! (Translation: Viajante = traveller in Portugeuse).

Located on the ground floor of the former Town Hall in Bethnal Green, my first impression was that this wasn’t my manor. With respect to the residents of that postcode, I had never associated it with high-end cuisine – but how wrong I was! This was a combination of gastronomy and theatre.

Danny had secured us a table looking onto the open kitchen, bustling with mad scientists preparing the most outrageous dishes under the supervision of the even madder scientist, bearded Head Chef Nuno Mendes, who conducted his team like a maestro at the front of an orchestra.

We chose a nine-course option (at £85 per head, excluding wine), which was in addition to five amuse bouches. Fifteen tasters that seemed to get better and better as the evening strolled along its winding exploration of Portuguese delicacies (lubricated by four splendid bottles of wine).

The first to excite our tastebuds was a ‘Thai explosion III’ – a mini-burger of spiced pork and half a quail’s egg. Delightful.

Part of the joy of the experience was the excited anticipation of what would come next, and although each new course wasn’t always to my taste, there were some incredible treats. ‘Bread and butter’ was so much more than its matter-of-fact description: pointed baguettes of granary bread with one of the butters flavoured with smoked bacon; charred presa with tomatoes and adobo was a beautifully rare slice of Iberico pork; even ‘Milk’ at the end of the meal could have been sued under the Trades Description Act – for this had nothing to do with your doorstep pinta: it was in fact shards of frozen milk set in an unbelievably soft milky ice cream.

As foodie experiences go, I’m not sure this can ever be topped, given our price bar (though we did go beyond our £100 limit by hammering the wine – which, at around £40 a heavily marked-up bottle, was the only downside to the night).

Food aside, the ambience was superb: well-spaced tables; a fantastic buzz in the room, attendant but not pushy, and certainly very knowledgable waiting staff; the theatre of tweezer-wielding chefs in the open-plan kitchen – who, to top it all, delivered their wares to our table and then described them in technicolour detail.

Having said all that, there was that feeling at the end of a three-hour dinner of still being less than full, which I suppose was down to the miniscule size of the dishes, but also because it stretched out for so long (not a bad thing).

So what are the scores on the doors?

Let’s start with the architecht of the evening, Danny:

Venue – 9.5 – Who’s have thought a town hall would contain such a place. Glad we got a chance to visit the bar which was cozy and really very nice, with some rare, tasty beers. The real icing on the cake was our table which was plenty big enough and the view of the kitchen and chefs was stunning!

Atmosphere  – 9 – Very comfortable, close to other tables but never felt overheard. Distinct lack of pretentiousness.

Food – 9 – Rather brilliant. I remember the butter that first tasted of burnt plastic then developed into a yummy smoked bacon flavour. The scallop and frozen herbs, wow! Some of the courses were too small for what they were served in and a couple of dishes didn’t match the quality of the majority, but overall is was extremely enjoyable. Certainly one of the most interesting taster menus I’ve had.

Service – 9 – Friendly, very knowledgable, even rather attractive. There when you needed and not when you didn’t. Wine glasses filled at the right time. Napkins folded for you when visiting the loo, all the nice touches you expect from a Michelin restaurant.

VFM – 8.5 – A quite hefty bill at the end of the night which, the wine was to blame. Although very nice, it was overpriced. They really should put some sub £30 wines on the list. I will return.

Mine:

Venue – 8 – The place itself is amazing, but too far off my beaten track for a homeboy like me. But if it was more centrally located, then Mr Mendez would be charging twice the amount, so definitely worth the trek.

Atmosphere  – 8.5 – Informal and friendly, almost cosy. The space wasn’t huge but I never felt I was in someone’s stuffy living room. The tables were perfectly spaced so that even four rather loud and enthusiastic men (us) never spoilt the enjoyment of the group of rather loud and enthusiastic group of six women on the table next to us – and neither group spoilt the romantic evening of the couple in front of us.

Food – 9 – Superb, but at the same time, it’s not something I would want to eat once a month, or even a quarter. But that’s as it should be: Viajante is a destination restaurant. A treat, to be savoured and to look forward to visiting again. If people eat this level of cuisine on a regular basis, then they’ve got too much money to truly appreciate it.

Service – 9.5 – Brilliant. Our waitress got the measure of us straight away: she knew when to advise, when to back off, when humour us and when to indulge us. But the real USP of the service was to be served at our table by the guys who had cooked their mini-masterpieces in the first place. What a touch!

VFM – 8 – I wish we’d had three instead of four bottles between us, not least because of the monstrous hangover I had the next day. But even that wouldn’t have kept us under our budget. However, we could have chosen the six-course option, which would have been within our means, but if we’d have done that, I fear we would have all been heading for the kebab shop across the road after the meal. Tee-totallers would give this a 10 in VFM terms, but four ‘Don’t Get Out Much’ dads would have appreciated some tipple that wouldn’t have been so bruising on the wallet – hence the deduction of a couple of points.

Scott: Venue – 8.5 Atmosphere – 8.5 Food – 8.5 Service – 9.5 VFM – 7 (largely due to overpriced wine).

Dan: Venue – 7.5 Atmosphere – 7.5 Food – 8 Service – 9  VFM – 7.5

TOTAL AVERAGE SCORE OUT OF 10 – 8.475

 

 

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