Katie Ginger - Cooking Up Christmas

To see if it’s cooked, test it in the middle with a skewer. If the skewer comes out clean, it’s done.

Enjoy! And let me know how you get on!

*

After the snack, Esme checked the counter again. Still nothing. It was four o’clock and the bright afternoon sun was beginning to set, casting the brown fields in a warm orange light. Writing the post had been difficult. Esme struggled with how much to say and how much to hold back. She didn’t want the world to know every little detail of her life, but she wanted to be open and connect with her readers on a personal level. Some of the blogs she’d read were so cold; just a list of direct instructions that read like orders. She wanted people to read hers and feel like they were with a friend. That they weren’t alone. But sitting staring at the counter wasn’t helping her mood so Esme changed into her running clothes and laced up her trainers.

She’d missed running when she was in London. Leo always used the posh gym, saying it wasn’t safe to run outside. Esme hated it. A treadmill just wasn’t the same as the ground beneath your feet. As Esme left the house and began running through fields with nothing and no one around, she felt a strange sense of freedom. As she ran, the wind blew away the few stray hairs that had escaped from her ponytail and it cooled her cheeks, even though she was hot and sweaty. Her lungs filled with clean air and her heart, beating hard, reminded her she was alive, fit and healthy, even if that heart still ached for the man she’d loved so much.

An hour later she opened the front door, her lungs burning from the effort, her body fired up and igniting. The smell of the orange tea bread still hung on the air, making her smile. With the energy that had been pulsing through her body now spent, Esme ran a bath, washing her long red hair with a jug. After changing into clean pyjamas and adding four more long jumpers to keep out the cold, she checked the counter again. Still nothing.

This was excruciating. How long did she have to wait for someone to read her blog? There were millions of people in the world – surely one of them wanted to read about cooking? Esme sighed and grabbed her phone to call Lola.

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