The lick

It was always worth being useful in the kitchen when Mum was baking because if she was appreciative I'd be offered "the lick". This was the remnants of raw cake-mixture left in the Kenwood Chef bowl and on the beater. Possibly it is more delicious than a cooked cake...

I always had to wait to be invited to enjoy this delicacy: if I jumped the gun and started it without permission, it would be whipped out of my hands and given to a brother instead.

And if I was really lucky Mum would make just a little too much cake-mix for the tin, so the lick would be more than simply scrapings in the bottom of the bowl. 

I made an LDC (lemon drizzle cake) today and thoroughly enjoyed the lick. I didn't ask myself if I might like it. I just ate it. With relish. Thinking about happy Saturday mornings in our childhood kitchen, learning about food from Mum.

Thank you for the kind and solicitous comments yesterday. The pain in my buttock has subsided somewhat today and I feel so much chirpier for it. And the sun came out again. Another reason to be cheerful.