A right old chocolatey stodge

Another birthday, another cake disaster. This time it was Dave's birthday and armed with a new recipe that I have baked successfully before in the UK, I set about measuring, mixing, beating and greasing with the boys. I was confident of this cake. Really, I was. I mean, I'd already baked it once and it rose a treat, tasted great and was generally a cake worth eating. Also, it used plain flour (still haven't resolved the self-raising flour issue despite many attempts and associated flops) and all the other ingredients were readily available here. This was a cake that was going to work. I was going to break my Bosnian cake duck.

I felt like I needed this cake to be a success. I can bake cakes, I have baked quite a few in my time. But since we've been in Bosnia I have not managed a one. Also, I've been momentarily depressed that one of the most popular searches that lead visitors to this blog is 'stodgy cakes' which is not quite how I wish to be remembered.

We were hopeful as it went into the oven, but 40 minutes later, the skewer came out clean and the cake was as flat as a pancake, except for a little half hearted attempt at a rise around the edges. More chocolate orange brownie texture than light and fluffy cake. There was only one thing for it. Ice the thing, cover it in M&Ms, fizzy lemon cola bottles and sticky gummy dinosaurs and try to contain the excitement as we wait for Daddy to return so we can sing Happy Birthday. Actually it didn't taste bad, was just a bit - oh alright then very - stodgy. The boys wasted no time in tucking in and tuck in they did, they are mercifully forgiving of cake disasters. There's nothing quite like a birthday party to get excitement levels to a peak and all the adults then had to do was to sit back and watch the effects of large amounts of sugar on small boys. Dave hasn't had a birthday party quite like it for years.

PS - Brits In Blagai - the recipe is coming your way. Please can you try it and see if you have any more success or is it something in the Bosnian flour that is thwarting my attempts (oh, please let it be something in the Bosnian flour and not total incompetence on my part, although I have a terrible feeling that the incompetence may play a large role, sigh).

1 Today

Brits In Bosnia is one year old today. A year ago we hadn't even started packing up our English house. We've come a long way, in many senses, since then.

In a nostalgic mood, I've been looking over some old posts to remind myself of some of the tales (and trials) of the last year and thought I'd highlight my favourite ones here; it is National Recycling Week after all - more about which later, once I've finished popping party poppers and blowing up balloons.

Olympic Dreams: The one where I'm ambushed by the Croatian water polo team on TV during the Olympics. It wasn't pretty then, it's not pretty now.

Boslish / Engian: The one where we discover that names don't always translate

Fireworks and Flowerpots: the one where Adam goes to the Ambassadors Residence for a party and pees in his flower pots.

The Thing About Winter: the one where I look forward to summer as I try to get the kids ready to go out in the snow. Having read it again, I'm not sure I can do another winter here.

Lost in Translation: the one where Luke's teacher and I get in a right old muddle as an English phrase just doesn't translate.

Important bits of English Culture : the one where Adam is introduced to that all important part of English culture - shouting at the TV whilst watching our national team lose.

La La La La Laaaaa: And the award for the Bosnian's favourite comedy show goes unexpectedly to...

Potty Training, It all depends : the one where I start thinking about potty training, and, more importantly, what other people mean by potty trained.

R&R? : The one where I'm preparing (ha ha ha) to fly home with the kids.

That's enough birthday indulgence. I'm off to over-indulge in chocolate cake and hula hoops and then I'll run around manically, screaming at the top of my voice before being sick and declaring it to be the best birthday ever!

The Legend of Lukey

Luke reached the grand old age of 2 yesterday. Only 2 - it feels like he has been around for much longer (that may be to do with his disincilination to sleep). Full toddlerdom awaits us and I feel he will embrace the terrible twos with enthusiasm. He is a sweet little boy, loud, rumbunctious, stubborn, charming and a real one for an audience. He does exactly what he wants to do. On a walk, he will decide he wants to go back to the car and set off, without looking back or stopping and with or without the rest of us. Luke has taken to Bosnian life with enthusiasm. He likes nursery, he likes the food there and he is loved by the Bosnians who are charmed by his attempts to speak Bosnian and penchant for blowing kisses.

We had a small party for him on Sunday. I made a cake (which tragically collapsed, I have yet to get to grips with the different types of Bosnian flour, and am still trying to work out what might constitute self-raising flour, which most my cake recipes call for). Still the 15 or so people who came round sang Happy Birthday and gamely ate the stodge.

The tradition is that you take a cake to nursery on the day of your child's birthday. I'm quite happy to submit my friends to my baking attempts, but thought better of public humiliation at nursery so I asked Tanja, our lovely cleaner, if she would mind doing the honours. The cake appeared, the biggest cake I have ever seen, resplendent with Bob the Builder on top.

Bosnian cakes are quite different to the British ones, lots of layers and cream and coconut flakes. I have to say, I'm not the biggest fan. But the Bob the Builder cake was greeted with delight at nursery and none of it was left at the end of the day. The nursery did a really great job of making his birthday special - they sang Happy Birthday in English and Bosnian, danced dances and generally had a right old party. He won't remember it, but I do feel he had a pretty decent birthday.