Stromness Dragon

I had visitors round at the house last week – storytellers attending the 2011 Orkney Storytelling Festival, out on a jaunt to the West Mainland. I’d lit the stove and even given the place a bit of a hoover (largely because there wouldn’t be enough chairs for everyone and inevitably someone would end up sitting on the floor). The cosiness factor was then ratcheted up a notch or two by a plate of homemade cheese scones and a ginger cake. The house smelled lovely, and the domestic-Goddessy aroma distracted the visitors (hopefully) from the peeling paint, threadbare blankets and copious amounts of cat hair.

The general reaction to this scene of domestic bliss was ‘ahhhhh…’ except the lady from Crete who, when it was pointed out that she was under investigation by a frisky tabby, muttered something along the lines of ‘Yes, I know. They like me because I don’t like them.’ The lady in question is very nice otherwise, and an exceptionally fine storyteller, so I forgave her this faux pas and passed her the butter.

The point is: cake. Cake is the point. I can think of few occasions that are not enlivened and improved by the addition of cake. Expecting people round? The warm fug of baking as they enter the house will dispel any crabbiness in their hearts. Got a tricky meeting? Take a lemon drizzle cake – it will soften the attitude of the toughest businessman. Want to say thank you to someone? Iced gingerbread hits the spot. Hard day at work? I can make a batch of scones and wash the bowl in 24 minutes…the 15 minutes in the oven is enough time to make a pot of tea and change into my comfy baffies. Bliss.

I can remember the first time I baked something: I had been given a Lett’s Girl Guides diary as a Christmas present (I was about 8 years old and had been neither a Brownie nor a Guide; my parents couldn’t afford the uniforms, having spent all their spare cash on oil paints and piano lessons. Sigh. Deprived childhood). At the back of the diary (why would an 8-year old need a diary?!) was a section of handy hints for aspiring housewives, which included how to sew on a button, how to iron a shirt, and instructions on how to run a multi-national corporation.* Then, on the tissue-like pages were printed two recipes – one for drop scones and one for gingerbread. My mum helped me, and I made the gingerbread, proudly presenting my sticky efforts to a work colleague of my father’s whom he had brought home for tea. The gentlemen in question was very gallant, proclaiming it to be the best gingerbread he had ever tasted – which was exceedingly generous considering I had forgotten to put any sugar in it.

The thrill of watching someone eating a cake I have made has never left me. My favourite cakes are of the homebake variety, as opposed to the fancies. There is a long debate to be had about the subtle differences between the two;  but essentially homebakes are, well, homely; whilst fancies have pretensions to hotel-tea-room grandeur and often feature coconut, fondant cream, or glace cherries. Like most people I have my old standbys – gingerbread still features, as does lemon drizzle. I have a fantastic new recipe (Thanks Jenny) for orange and poppy seed cake which requires wholemeal flour and groundnut oil and could almost be called healthy.

One of the recent recipients of this new cake was our beloved Orkney Library, whose reputation is now spreading far beyond these shores. With over 4,000 followers on Twitter, and more than 1,000 ‘likers’ on Facebook, they are a constant source of amusement and wonder to people all over the world – many of whom will never even visit these islands. A typical status reads: Some people still don’t know that we have free wi-fi in Kirkwall and Stromness Libraries. We are sometimes asked what wi-fi stands for. Many people think it means wireless-fidelity, like hi-fi being short for high-fidelity. In actual fact wi-fi stands for Windolene Fiona, and was invented in honour of the Patron Saint of Clean Windows.

Earlier this week, they posted this:  ‎”HONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKK” That, Ladies & Gentlemen, is the baking siren. Our first delivery of home baked goods this week has arrived….

Get the idea? These folk are mad for cakes and the generous public respond; it’s like Test Match Special in there – except with books, and less cricket. Outside the building is a book drop facility for members to return books out of hours. Occasionally, people leave gifts in it of cakes and biscuits, much to the delight of the staff; and it’s not just local folk, either! I know a couple who visited Orkney and made a special trip to the library to deliver a packet of biscuits, having been charmed by their baking-related Tweets.

This brings me to another important point. Attend any event, and watch the local ladies peruse the sweetmeats on offer. ‘Shop-bought’, they mutter as they pass the Penguins. The tone with which this is uttered conveys a mixture of many things: ‘these people have ideas above their station’, ‘…they can’t be bothered to make an effort’ ‘…they’ve spent too long sooth’…but mixed in with all of this is a slight tinge of envy, because in times past it would have been a real treat to buy a dainty, refined biscuit rather than make something a bit more rustic. I remember a holiday in Scotland as a child; we visited an aged aunt, who presented us with tea. Her own plate consisted of a crusty homemade roll and a chunky fruit loaf, whilst the special guests received white bread and butter, followed by wrapped mint Viscounts.

Stalwarts of the Orkney baking scene are the various branches of the SWRI, who wouldn’t been seen dead with an Orange Club or similar. The SWRI are the Scottish Women’s Rural Institute; their equivalent in England would be the Women’s Institute, made famous/infamous by the film Calendar Girls, after one of the branches made a nude calendar as a Christmas fundraiser and dispelled forever the ‘Jam and Jerusalem’ myth.  A similar calendar was made in Orkney a few years later, but that’s a different story.

The SWRI has branches throughout Orkney, and they generally meet once a month. Its members hold regular competitions, wherein the members demonstrate their skills in baking and other home-crafts. Listening to Radio Orkney’s What’s On can be a joy when they announce the competitions. ‘Harry SWRI meets tonight and the competition is….four squares of fudge.’ ‘Birsay SWRI, the competitions are…a poem about winter and the best use of 100g ball of wool’. ‘Westray SWRI…can members bring along…..a flower photograph and 6 cherry scones’. If the group meeting has a guest speaker (and I have had the honour of addressing the Quoyloo SWRI), then they will be asked to judge the competition – believe me, the pressure is immense and the ladies are very competitive! Luckily I only had to judge the ‘interesting old plate’ competition and not a baking one, but I was treated afterwards to the loveliest spread of homebakes of all descriptions, provided by the members. As we all tucked in to the goodies, a lively discussion ensued about whether they should start a slimming club.

Almost alone amongst women of my acquaintance, it would seem, I am not that fussed about chocolate. I can honestly take it or leave it, and I have to be in the mood to want to eat it. Same with biscuits or sweets. But by Golly, present me with a plate of Orkney home-bakes and I am sunk. All good intentions go out of the window as I stuff my face with shortbread, fruitcake and Victoria sponge. I am not alone in this – I know few people who can resist a homemade cake. So the next time you have a tricky situation to deal with, take my advice. Get baking.

*one of these is made up.

Tags: baking, cake, Orkney, SWRI

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