My dad was left home alone all weekend, when his wife deserted him for a weekend at the best place on earth my Grandpa’s house in Scotland, and his older daughter was too distracted to even remember to call him.

So what does he do?


Yes, you are reading that correctly. My father, whose entire repertoire of recipes is a Full English Breakfast or Spaghetti Bolognaise (his recipe card for this says things like “add more salt than you would expect”) baked muffins.

I don’t think I have yet recovered from the shock.

And in case you still don’t believe me, he even took pictures (I am having a good influence on him!)

Dad's beautiful three-types-of-choc-chip muffins

Dad's three-types-of-choc-chip muffins

Dad, I have never been more proud, I think my heart could burst!

p.s. While my dad was busy becoming the next James Martin, I was learning a very valuable cooking lesson myself: Don’t become so engrossed in a conversation with a good friend that you forget to turn the oven down at the right moment, until the smoke coming from said oven alerts you to the coming disaster.

I also discovered that if you scrape off the top inch of burnt pecan pie, the underneath still tastes surprisingly good.