There are lots of sly jokes about what people want for Mother’s Day. Most of them don’t involve an electric foot bath, limp bunch of gerberas or a scented candle.
This was one of my favourites.
It captures it all.
I’d possibly accent it with; put me on an plane with a gin and tonic in my hand, fly me anywhere (but preferably somewhere grand), let me wear silk and not worry about sticky fingers, let me carry a bag that isn’t littered with rogue teaspoons chubby hands have shoplifted from babycino expeditions in the base, let me order a coffee without a babycino on the side for heaven’s sake (I half swallow the word everytime I say it. It’s just mortifying, like ‘mugacino and antipasta and panties. Words that shouldn’t be spoken).
But these easy-to-eat-with- one-hand cakes come a close second to everything. (And if they can be consumed after a sleep in, during some alone time? Gold).
My second mother’s day was in fact, quite perfect.
It started with the freakish, never-happened-before slumber of my offspring, who not only didn’t stir once during the night, but stayed in blissful repose until 7.30 am. There was a cup of tea in bed (drunk hot!) and a beautiful cookbook and memoir from a very talented peer (do buy it – it’s a fantastic read). And then breakfast and a walk from Manly to Shelly Beach.
Later on there was time to have a solo bath and another cup of tea. And I may have even taken one of these cakes in with me.
These cakes can be made with dizzying ease. They’re dependable, sprightly and not-too sweet. They’re the perfect thing to have for morning or afternoon tea (or split with a little one). They first made an appearance at Will’s first birthday party and have quickly become part of our shared baking repertoire.
It’s the easy process of melt, measure and muddle which works well with busy little hands in the kitchen (or distracted brains late at night).
The poppyseeds have a special place in my heart.
They’re the first ingredient I played with when I embarked on the ’40 weeks of Feasting‘ series on the blog, when Will was just a line on a stick and a vague tug of tiredness. They’re also what I turned to when I bribed the midwives to be good to me, just prior to his birth.
They’re also going to be the very first recipe in a new project that I’m working on- (no, it’s not another baby, don’t get too excited. Let’s get this one sleeping properly first, huh?) . I’m giving a sneak peak of them here.
You could swap the lemon for other citrus; pink grapefruit, orange and mandarin would all work well. Similarly, if you need to make them dairy free (or paleo), coconut oil and coconut yoghurt will also work (though they will take the flavour in another direction). They tick all the right boxes; gluten free, refined sugar free, slow carb yet good for morale. The chia help bind them together and add more good fibre to the mix.
You could top them with sweetened whipped cream cheese, or glaze them with a syrup of warmed honey and lemon juice, but I like them just fine as they are. They keep well in the fridge for up to a week (and freeze well if you need to cue a care parcel for someone).
They’re the taste of simplicity and sunshine. And serve as a sweet reminder that good things come in small packages.
Lemon Poppyseed Chia Cakes
Makes 10-12 wee cakes
Shopping/foraging
3 eggs, beaten
3 tbsp honey (or maple syrup)
3 tbsp natural yoghurt (or coconut yoghurt)
150 g butter, melted (or coconut oil)
200 g/2 cups ground almonds
zest of 2 lemons
3 tbsp poppy seeds
2 tbsp chia seeds
Here’s how we roll
1) Preheat the oven to 160C/320 F and grease well a 3/4 cup muffin tray.
2) Combine the eggs with the yoghurt and butter or oil.
3) Fold in the dry ingredients and stir to combine.
4) Portion out into the muffin tins. Bake for 20 minutes, until a skewer comes out clean. Allow to cool in the tin for 10 minutes, then remove.
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