Tag Archives: Gay

Wondercat Bakery: Cream puffs?

15 Sep

The elves whipped up some cream puffs when Adam and Kalli came to dinner. Who knew you could turn up the gay on a cream puff?

Choux Puffs with Orange Crème Pâtissière, Vanilla Cream and a Chocolate Ganache flourish!


Pre-heat your oven to 200°C. Bring the water and butter to the boil in a saucepan, take off the heat and add the dry ingredients quickly then whack the pan back on the heat and and stir furiously with a wooden spoon. It will turn into a strange, smooth, shiny dough ball after a couple of minutes that quite frankly, turns my stomach…my head says yummy dough but my heart screams MELTED BABY! Take off the heat and beat that daemon baby glob with the wooden spoon until it is luke warm (and definitely dead, unable to climb from the pan and eat your face). Beat the eggs then stir them into the dough until it forms a nice smooth paste that no longer resembles plastic surgery off-cuts. Pipe into about 12 blobs on a lined backing tray, egg wash them if you feel the urge then pop them in the oven. After 15 minutes turn the oven down to 170°C, do not open the oven to peek (really, just don’t do it, you’ll end up with a tray of deflated breasts)! After another 30 minutes they should be golden and crisp. Stab each one with a sharp knife to release the tortured souls of the daemon babies (or steam, or perhaps both) turn the oven off and pop them back in to dry out whist you get on with creating the delightful, sweet innards.

Orange Crème Pâtissière

Mix the yolks, sugar, flours to a nice smooth paste in a large bowl (or jug, something with a spout is a good plan or you may cover the kitchen in sticky mess…I did). Heat the milk and orange zest in a pan until just beginning to boil. Pour the hot milk into the bowl of other things and whisk. Tip it all back into the pan (this is where a spout comes in very handy), heat and whisk until it is thick and unctuous…then stir in the orange juice. Set aside to cool.

Vanilla Crean

Split the vanilla pop and scrape the seeds into a bowl of double cream. Whisk slowly and add enough icing sugar until it is sweet enough for you. I haven’t included any measurements as there is nothing better than left-over sweetened cream to gorge on later (avoid the Arc of Shame).

Chocolate Ganache

Just melt the chocolate and stir in the cream. No measurements hear either for the same reason. You need a lot more cream than you do chocolate; not enough cream and you’ll get a solid (yet delicious) mess.

All that is left is assembly. Cut the buns in half, using star nozzles and piping bags fill the bottom with the crème pâtissière, top this with the vanilla cream, put the bun top back on, a flourish of chocolate ganache…et voila!

I topped with a sprinkle of chopped hazelnuts and served with some strawberries lightly cooked with the juice of the rest of the orange (waste not want not) and some sugar…I managed to resist adding edible glitter (barely) after all, how gay can these things be before they chassé off the plate?

I think everyone enjoyed them. Adam is smiling (but I did tell him to smile for the photo) and we all wolfed them down.

So that’s how you gay up a cream puff folks! Imagine what we could do with a long, thick éclair and a good squeeze of cream?

The top tier…

13 Sep

The boys recently celebrated their first wedding anniversary.  Since the big day the top tier has been in the freezer.  It is traditional to store the top tier to use as the christening cake for the couples first born…

Mykie makes a fucking good cake!

Christening is one of the last things I’d inflict upon a child, if they wanted to when they were older I wouldn’t stop them but it’d be their choice…We could always use the cake for some sort of Naming Ceremony for the Himalayan Whistle Kid we would purchase from Ebay Adoption…or not…

We defrosted the cake this weekend and gorged ourselves on the still deliciously decadent fruit cake with chocolate fondant (it contains enough brandy to preserve it forever…nuclear war, I know what the cockroaches would be eating).  It’s just a cake, right?  Nope, for me it was making the final decision to not have children (I always enact major life choices with cake).So what has brought me to the point of “Mykie says No to Children” (apart from the sweet siren song of forbidden fruit cake)?

I always wanted kids, from the days of being a homo in the wardrobe (we are in England people, we don’t have closets here) right through until the last few years.  I used to sit and pick out baby names with my girlfriends (my childless status is probably a blessing for this reason alone…no one else seems that fond of Quinilda or Theodora) and it upset me terribly when the cool kids next door moved away.  I love playing with kids and coddling babies and generally interacting with little perkins; Unfortunately, if I had some of my own it would all go horribly wrong.  This isn’t going to be a self indulgent, queeny rant about how I can’t even look after myself/my life is far too fabulous/I’m too high maintenance to think of anyone else…blah, blah, blah.  The reason I don’t think it would be a good idea is that I’ve thought about some things too much and others not enough…there are no do-overs with kids…if you fuck them up…you pay the psychologists bill.

I’ve read that kids learn languages more easily in their early years and learning a musical instrument can positively influence brain development.  I’d also like them them to have opportunities I didn’t like gymnastics from a very young age/baby ballet/baby yoga/baby swimming…so far the kid is speaking Cantonese/Mandarin/English/Spanish/French, playing the piano/violin/guitar/saxophone/dulcimer whist tumbling to music ending in a grand finale full-in-full to lotus position…I’ve not even started with the arts curriculum.  Despite all this planning and a horrible fear my little baby would miss out on a life changing opportunity…I only learned that you have to brush a baby’s teeth a few weeks ago.

And the list goes on…

  • I want Quinilda to think critically and rationally, so do I tell her about Santa?
  • I want her to express herself, but she needs to know about boundaries…do I smack her?  Do I have a naughty step?  Do I let her run naked through the streets pissing down her leg?
  • I’ve heard you can raise a baby without nappies…they can be taught to crap on demand…I would be testing this.
  • I want her to enjoy healthy foods and the natural sweetness of fruit and veg, can I really deny her chocolate and other super-normal stimuli?
  • What time do babies go to bed?
  • What is the best food for a baby?
  • What do I do if she’s crap at everything?
  • Or not very pretty?
  • When do you let kids walk to school/cross the road on their own?
  • What if she’s a friendless social misfit?
  • Or a big dirty cum whore?

The summary of all these points is that I know how much pressure I put on myself to do things well, I don’t want to transfer my insecurities and neuroses to a child…I don’t want to be a pushy soccer/pageant/dance school mum…but I know I would be…I would try and squash so much into the kids life so they didn’t miss out they would end up hating and resenting me which would break my heart.

I don’t think you can “win” at child rearing…

Unfortunately you can’t just try harder and harder to be a good parent…

I think it takes a degree of temperance that I simply do not possess.

So I have shed a tear this week (as I stuffed myself with cake) but I am happy being Uncle Mykie if the opportunity presents itself.  I don’t feel a void in my life that I need to fill with multi-racial small people. I will content myself with bedecking other peoples kids in Baby Dior and Disney Princess ensembles.

You can still see the footprints! The only tiny footprints in this house.

I am king of this house and I wouldn’t want what amounts to the bastard hybridization of a loaf of bread and a fog-horn anywhere near me.  Let’s not forget people…Mykie has just chosen cake over children…he would be an awful daddy.

Coming Out: Part 3

29 Aug

So here’s the next instalment of Coming Out…


So I was pulled out the closet against my will with regards to telling people.  I had peeked out the door but I was comfy snuggled up in the winter furs of denial.  It’s not that I hadn’t realised for a long time I was gay, it’s not even that I hadn’t done anything gay, I just wasn’t really ready to tell the world…not that it should have be a big shock to anyone; I had, after all spent  my childhood choreographing dance routines to Madonna songs with the neighbour girls whilst the boys were wrestling (hmmm?); My teen years were spent mostly bouncing around in Lycra.  Being from a small town where there didn’t appear to be any gay people made the idea of coming out seam like a really big deal…

So I moved away to Uni, my best mate from home told me he was gay, I still didn’t want to tell anyone…perfect opportunity really.  Then, out of the blue, I had no choice.  We had gone to “Torremolinos” (the end of year Uni party) where I had spent the evening getting friendlier with the barman I’d been flirting with all year… At the end of the night my best friend in the whole world who I’d spent the last year living with and getting to know, told me she had feelings for me…Eek!  I spent that night going through things in my head.  As far as I could see I had two choices, both not great…

1:  Spare my friends feelings, start a relationship and just hope I could play the part with a modicum of success.

2: Finally get around to telling someone I was gay and break my beloved friends heart in the process.

I chose 2.

Telling my parents happened a few weeks later.  I was at a family 18th birthday party and was ridiculously drunk.  My aunt came up to me and said “when are you going to get around to telling your parents?” (I say I don’t even know how she knew but, as I said before, you could see my gayness from space).  It’s all a bit hazy, I think I pretty much just blurted it out to my folks in front of everyone.  They were fine, but I really, really regretted it the next day and spent the whole day under my duvet sobbing…I felt like I’d let them down in some way…my sister reminded me yesterday she came and offered me a Malteser to make me feel better…she’s such a sweet darling.

So to follow were a few years of spiralling out of control.  I didn’t want to talk to my parents (even though they were fine about it), I ended up on really terrible terms with my best friend for over a year (awfully upsetting, thankfully all is now great) and pretty much managed to near kill myself with a delightful mixture of drugs, alcohol and eating disorders…fun, fun, fun. My first long term boyfriend (for over 3 years) turned out to be…shall we say “not the right person for me” and I wish my parents would have told me they thought he was a douche instead of thinking it would appear they were “disapproving of my lifestyle” and letting me figure it out for myself.

Reading back over this makes it seem quite bleak, at the time it didn’t seem so bad.  In retrospect, I just remember feeling really sad and lonely.

Thankfully Mykie managed to sort himself out and become a semi-productive member of society and is currently living out his Happily Ever After with Simon and I…Happy Days.

Coming Out! Part 2

28 Aug

Here’s the second post in our Pride special…

Adam Moxley, Manchester

I came out to my dad when I was 16 as I had a boyfriend at the time. I wanted to go to Newquay with him and his friends for a weekend, but before I went my dad wanted to know what my relationship with him was. I told him and was promptly told I wasn’t allowed to go! My mum then came up a few minutes later in floods of tears. She wasn’t particularly upset, but worried that my life would be far more troublesome than if I was straight.

I asked my dad why I wasn’t allowed to go away and he then clarified that he didn’t want me to see my boyfriend at all. On the grounds that I was 16 and he was 18 – this was all when the age of consent was 18 – and my boyfriend was breaking the law. Obviously being a teenager I didn’t take a blind bit of notice and carried on seeing him. We went out for a total of 3 months in the end. It was love 😛

Later I found out my dad lost his virginity when he was 14. I called him a hypocrite for ever having an issue with me having any kind of sexual activity when I was older than when he started!

My parents have since completely accepted me for who I am, even trying to set me up with holiday reps that they think fancy me. Slightly disturbing but touching at the same time.

Thanks so much for contributing Mr Adam!  Your not so wonderful gift will be in the post. 😉

Coming Out! Part 1

27 Aug

It’s Manchester Pride Big Weekend!

It’s that time of year to stand up and be proud!  But how did we get here?   What challenges did we face to become comfortable and open with who we are?

The next few posts will be some coming out stories…

David Gibbs- New York, NY

Back in February of  2005 when I was 21, I was going to school at the University of Arizona. One night I got a phone call that one of my good friends from high school in New Jersey had passed away in a freak accident. This got me thinking about my life and if I was really happy living the way I was living. My original plan was to come out after my grandparents past away, but this accident made me realize that I have to live life to the fullest.

The next day while sitting through a boring history class with a friend, I decided I needed to come out. After class I told her and all my other close friends that I was gay. Their response was “it’s about time you came out.” No problems there.

Two weeks later I flew back to New Jersey on an overnight flight to tell my parents and family. They had no idea I was coming home. I got to New York around 5:30 in the morning and had my best friend pick me up. I told him and he could care less. Around 7:30am he dropped me off at my moms house. I walked in the door and she freaked out and screamed. She came to my room and asked what I was doing in New Jersey. I told her I had to tell her something. She just listened. When I told her, she said, “Is that all?” I was a little surprised by her response. She apparently thought I came home to tell her I was dropping out of school. We went to breakfast and discussed some gay issues such as HIV and how much that scares her and also that she doesn’t care that I’m gay but that she doesn’t believe in gay marriage. The latter has since changed.

Next it was off to my dad’s to tell my brother. It was around 10:30am at this point and he was still sleeping. My mom and I went to his room and woke him up to tell him. His response, “You woke me up to tell me that?! I already knew.” When my mom left the room I asked him how he knew. Apparently I left some porn open on the family computer the summer prior.

Last person to tell was my dad. He came home from work around 3pm and I’m sitting in his living room with my mom and brother. He walks in and asks if someone had died and why was I home and everyone at his place. I told him that I came home from Arizona to tell everyone that I’m gay he responded with “let me ask you, are you happy?” When I said yes, he said “that’s all I care about.”

Over time I slowly told the rest of my family. Everyone was extremely supportive and very happy for me. The only person who had any sort of problem was my uncle who thinks that I am going through a phase and still does. I even told my grandma and she told me it was about time that I came out and that she will support anything and everything I do. That was the shocker to me.

I am very fortunate to have such a supportive and loving family. Unfortunately I have friends who were not as fortunate to have the support that I had and have.

Cheers for your contribution David!  We hope to see you sometime soon!

If you would like to share your story feel free to get in touch.  There will be a little “thank you” gift for contributors.

Changing times…even snails can travel miles given enough time.

17 Aug

I’m two years old…those bastard boys I live with only remembered the week after my birthday.  Slightly better than my first birthday when we had a party a month late.  Bitterness aside, my point is I’m only young;  The world hasn’t changed much since I’ve been in it.  Maybe it has, maybe I’ve just not noticed…

I was around at Noo Noo’s new house the other day to admire how far he had progressed with decorating (bravo to him for tackling it himself, we wimped out and got men in).  He had been ripping up some old flooring and underneath was some yellowing, local newspaper from 1958!  We found the front page (amongst sheets filled with ads for hair curlers and push-along vacuum cleaners); the cover story of the day was:

” “COUPLE HAVE BLACK BABY”  When [generic man name] comes up from the pit, his face is black and his hands are black.  After a quick wash he is white again, unlike his new son…”

We were shocked,  how was this ever headline news (or news at all)?  It got me thinking, when did this stop being news?  Was there a cut off point in history when suddenly adopting a child of a different race from yourself didn’t require a picture, full-page article and interviews with your neighbours (Angelina, Madonna, Sandra Bullock-you’re all excused)?  Of course not, like a glacier, cultural and social norms move imperceptibly slowly.  Who knows, in fifty years or so there may even be a black president of the USA!

Being 28, I’ve never really been exposed to this sort of crazy race-carnival-show mentality.  Even growing up in a small, mainly white town with only four families of differing race in the my whole school (the Cronins’ and Nizar Sudani were the black contingent, the Hadads’ covered the Arabic sector and my family were the oriental representatives), the white kid with the bald head and medical crash helmet got the brunt of school-yard teasing (I got the odd “chink” and “ching chong” kids can be so… creative).

My life as a present day gay is generally a pleasant hassle-free life.  Maybe it’s the people I socialise with, the places I go, the place I live…no problems at all.  Had a big, gay wedding (well, civil partnership), shacked up with the hubby (OK, civil partner), all is rosy; It seems not everyone is as lucky.  The Prop 8 issues in America highlights that we are in a time of transition.  It was only 2004 when same-sex civil partnerships were legalised in the UK, we still can’t actually marry.  I remember when I bought my first house my Moogie said to me (after her and the Old Man generously gave me a pile of pennies) “well we won’t have to shell out on a wedding”.

It’s 2010 and the tabloids, blogs, podcasts, TV shows are full of “such a Z-lister is gay!” and “Mr fat-old-politician is fucking rent boys!”.  Gay is news, gay makes the news, gay requires a picture, full-page article and interviews with your neighbours.  What the LGBT is fighting for is to not be news.


I was around at Robo-Noo Noo’s new house the other day to admire how far he had progressed with decorating (bravo to him for tackling it himself, we wimped out and got decorating cyborgs in).  He had been ripping up some old flooring and underneath was some yellowing, local newspaper from 2010!  We found the front page (amongst sheets filled with ads for breast augmentation and Roombas); the cover story of the day was:

“MIXED REACTION TO RICKY MARTIN’S GAY REVELATION” Puerto Rican singer Ricky Martin’s announcement that he is gay has prompted a host of reactions from fans and pundits, ranging from support to indifference. In a statement posted in English and Spanish on his website, Martin said he was “very blessed” to be “a fortunate homosexual man “. “

It’s 2010, we’re getting there.

Five go up a Mountain: A tale of danger and drama

8 Aug