On Bakewell Tarts

I think I am growing old. Folks, I ate a bakewell tart and did not gag. That is a sure sign of my advancement in age.

It means my tastebuds are mellowing, or falling off, or whatever tastebuds do when they get old. Where you begin to enjoy the taste of things that used to revolt you in your youth.

Olives? Can’t get enough of them.

Marzipan? Used to detest it and now I quite like it washed down with a mug of solid builder’s tea.

And now bakewell tarts.

Horrid tasting things, bit like those cinnamon chewing gums that Halls makes.

But I had just finished a mammoth cleaning session, was sweaty and tired, bit shaky because I realised that while my kids were happy and fed, I had forgotten to feed myself. Went rummaging in the cupboards for something quick to eat, shot of energy so to say.

And I saw those Kipling’s bakewell tarts looking back at me with their one-eyed innocence. The one eye being the glacé cherry on top.

And I picked one up and popped it into my mouth…. and it was SO BLOODY GOOD. My mouth immediately watered for more. So I had a cup of tea and two more!

SO GOOD.

What foods did you hate but grew to enjoy?

This is what a Bakewell tart looks like. The base layer is shortcrust pastry, and then there is jam, followed by frangipane. On top is icing and a glacé cherry. life

4 thoughts on “On Bakewell Tarts

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