"You can't have your cake and eat it" this I never truly understood as you can't eat what you haven't got either and countless times I'm reminded of this when adventuring to the lesser explored parts of the planet. I love my food as I've stated before and nothing whets my appetite more than thinking back to a previous adventure and my thoughts go back to a harrowing trip five years ago...
I was in my Land Rover travelling down though a remote area of Britain, the poorly little used track was slow going and arduous and possibly cold and wet. I reached a small, what can only be described as settlement pencilled in, barely legible on my crude map called London. I came across several rather quaint dwellings and the indigenous peoples of the area seemed oblivious to my presence. It was then that I noticed my gearbox whine, sure enough within moments I ground to a standstill in a wild looking area marked as Paddington station, presumably some sort of waypoint for travellers in days gone by. It's a serious thing to travel so remote without backup and I was regretting not having charged my Mobile in the vein hope there would be some reception. The likelihood of me being stuck here for some time, possibly even minutes can play tricks on the untrained mind but just like clockwork my training kicked in.Stop,think,Breathe. Ok what did I have to work with? The door pocket was empty but in prying open the under seat egg container (I'd had installed after my near trip disaster in Australia) I discovered three eggs pristinely shrink wrapped and still intact... it was a start. Gauging the time of day by the suns movement I could see that in fact tea time was fast waning and against all training and common sense I'd have to leave my vehicle to go and forage. After much toil in one of the rather quaint dwellings I found a crude but palatable white powder, something that that resembled a type of milk and a couple of other things that would likely work to keep me i the way I'd come to expect. I headed back and armed with my Swiss army whisk I set about my task. Minutes later I was eating happily the still cooling efforts of my labour as help came over the hill in the form of the trusty RAC unit.
It's not quite the same these days but I found a recipe in the back of women's weekly, called Vicky sponge it's the closest I can get... and it's close enough, it always makes me smile and remember that simple, rustic dish that I experienced years ago and gives one hope that when things get dire and indeed desperate. That just a small piece of forward thinking means that you can "Literally"have your cake and eat it.
Siobhan. (Currently having a day off)
