cake du jour

Fondant fancies never made an appearance at home, but I do vaguely remember Nanny producing them at tea time. Nanny had an exceptionally sweet tooth and it was hard to go longer than 30 minutes in her house without sugar-related food of one sort or another being offered. She compensated for this by only ever offering small amounts. The mini mars bar was a particular favourite: a sweet which I have always loathed and which was constantly pressed into my sweaty hand between the ages of 7 and 12. I ate it anyhow, as I have inherited Nanny's taste for both regular and sweet food (as well as arthritic pain in my little fingers). The fondant fancy would fulfil all of Nanny's criteria, being both excruciatingly sweet and rather small. Nowadays it seems impossible to eat only one. I much prefer the lemony ones but of course will eat a pink one if nothing else is available: who am I to fight the family genes?

Recently a group of us spent some time in school contemplating producing a giant fondant fancy for Trouble's wedding. It is perhaps fortunate that we never got around to it, as the resultant sugar rush would surely be apocalyptic, and South East London cannot afford to lose that many teachers in one go.